《How The Weak Live》 Prologue : What The Future Holds The Siren wailed across the molested field. It was a sad, unheard melody, for the Siren wept her Notes for the dead, and soon about to be, than the breathing soldiers sprinting to the battlements of the fallen city. The Notes cut through the pounding of fifteen thousand boots. They slithered on the sinking mud, through the biting gales, thick rain, and under the volleys of arrows and the flashing bolts of death magic. The Notes arched to the gray skies, passing wyverns dropping explosive crystal shards on the soldiers and wyverns that were dropping with half of their bodies missing, cut down by a wind sorceress of unparalleled power. Ceaselessly, the Siren felt the sorrow of the countless thousands. Their regrets, their hopes, their dreams, their last memories--all vanishing as quickly as the Corrupted can nock their arrows. She felt how the arrows pierced their cheap armor, how it parted flesh and bone, and how the men and women fell to the ground, unmoving, three hundred meters away from the gates. Those which followed lifted fallen ladders, leaving behind the bodies, and resuming their mission. Towards the liberation of their city, taken over by beasts of unknown origin. The Siren fell back to the rusty earth and struggled on, through the bumps and various explosive mines of the field, and over the battlements. The Corrupted, rotting, hideous, and without flesh, shook, both in fear and shame. They too, were once human. Humans? What are humans? Their red blood was mixed. Violet, green, blue, reminiscence of extent races smothered through the conquering of cities and the molesting of their lands. Humanoids, maybe? Did the Siren no longer consider herself to be human as well? Is she now above them, beyond the petty squabbles of a primitive mortal? Below them, for now, she is no longer able to participate in their dance? Where was she, in the greater foot of things? What did she, herself, fear? What was she? Would the arrows also part her skull and spill her brain like mellow juice? Was the futility of theirmarch to certain death notmake itself apparent to those that were already dead, to those that were upon those walls, attempting to protect what little flesh they had? How could they march like sheep, in arrows and fires? How was she, the Siren, any different than them, who have and will continue to meet certain gore? The Siren. A singer meant to entertain. Music for when the Gods gaze with all the poumpous deamoner of an infinanitly immortal being upon the inconsquiental bickering of bags of moving blood. There was amusment, in all the different ways each bag of blood spilled the oposing sides blood. Creativiety unmatched even by those very Gods that derive their sinful power from. She amused them, surely. Why else would she be granted this equally immoral power, this cursed, derisive voice to be heard by the living? She was there, screetching her Notes as they watched the chickens scratch at each other, gamblings things of little worth as guts flew and dirtied the cages. Her job was an equally persasive role in this, for she played the background music to the great play as the actors perished one by one, hundreds by hundreds, thousands by thousands. Faces indiscerinable from one another replace each other, speak like the others, and perish like the others. Little differers, little changes, little matters. Fleeting thoughts jabbed at the Siren¡¯s conscious, causing hesitation to echo in her voice. She faltered, her voice amiss, once, twice, thrice, and thus the Song ended prematurely. All the strings in which the Siren connected her Notes snapped, returning all of the sensations into one brief torturous moment. There, on her feet, she felt the mud. The stone, the steel, the blood. She felt the frostbite eat away at her skin, and the fires of the mine which just blew away her limb. Her arm dangelled numbly, but it also burned feveirishly, its skin parted and its liquiud seeping. She felt her eye to be punctured by the tip of a spear, and felt her brain following suit. A couple of her fingers had gone missing, phantom pains fooling her senses, as the dagger which she held spread open the neck of a fallen enemy, the warm, squishy sensetasion of it sinking deep it.All the colors of the gray field, all the bitter emotions and the cursing and the sobbing of pubescent children and aging veterns were one and the same. Kora fell to her knees, arms clutching her head as she banged it against the dirt. Her breath escaped her in quick succession. She panted, coughed, and attempted to vomit, yet nothing but painful groans escaped her body in tight crumps. Her head threatened to burst. She felt too many things, heard too many things, thought too many things. She laid there on the cold grass for a short while, her body convulsing every few agonizing moments. She only brought her tattered body up once the itching of the grass became unbearable and the sounds of distant iron crashing incessant.Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings. She limped a few steps, her arms held against the shriveled trees for support, before her leg finally gave up on her and sent her tumbling down the hill. It was a painful way down, but the quickest, Kora realized mid-descent. The mud softened her descent, allowing to avoid the worse of injuries in trades of her dignity. Finding her sad excusefor mule staring at her bewilderedly, Kora lifted herself up, quickly removing the worst of the muck from her face. She removed the knot from its neck and threw herself on top of the infuriating thing. It snorted in displeasure. The back of Kora¡¯s heels stifled its complaints.The ride back to camp was, as she expected, painful and full of curses at unknown Gods and wretched commanders. Upon returning to camp, the few soldiers running around glanced at their lieutenant, her messy hair and wasted appearance sitting on top of an ugly mule. A glare and a growl sent each one of them scurrying along. She threw the mule¡¯s reins to the closest stable looking boy she could find and limped her way to the commander''s tent. The Captain, eagerly awaiting her arrival, promptly disengaged himself from the bickering of the other majors, captains, sargents, and everyone else who held little power. ¡°What in Dylon¡¯s name happened to you, lieutenant? You look as if you as if you swam through mud to get here.¡± The Captain said, sniffing the air, ¡°And you smell it, too.¡± Kora scowled at the giant brown man,receiving a mischievous smirk in return. ¡°Calling upon the Death Lord¡¯s name in battle is never wise, sir.¡± He waved her off ¡°What¡¯s another God¡¯s disfavor going to poke? So? Don¡¯t change the subject.¡± Kora cursed once again. She tilted her head away, before begrudgingly answering him ¡° I slipped and fell down a fucking hill, landing in a pile which I hope was pure mud.¡± The Captain laughed, and loudly so, momentarily putting a pause to every conversation in the room.They promtly resumed their own, more covert form of warfare of decit and mockery, half-used to such bizarre behavior. With a furtive glance around him, the Captain stepped in close then, bending his ears slightly to her. ¡°How well did it go?¡± He whispered. Loudly. Kora sighed inwardly. Is he trying to be conspicuous? ¡°The battlefield is too enormous. Moments into it and I was not able to handle the influx of information. Too many people, too many things occurring at the same time. The number of people dying did not make it easier. Overloads it. My voice barely reached the battlements before I lost control." The Captain straightened his back, letting out a disappointed sigh. ¡°Figures, though it didn''t hurt to try." "Yes, yes it did sir," Kora answered with a glare, and thennodding towards the exit, motioning for him to follow. She might not have been able to survey the enemy''s numbers, but she did find something vitally important. After they had escaped that dreadful tent, Kora and the Captain looked at the besieged city. ¡°Dijhat, one of the most contested kingdoms in the continent-- fallen to the Corruption God¡¯s minions,¡± the Captain groaned. Dijhat control was the reason behind the success of the Profectus Empire. Its loss would mean the Empire¡¯s failure. ¡°What is it, Lieutenant?¡± Kora opened her mouth, closed it, then opened it again. ¡°Sir, the soldiers are...terrified.¡± She paused, thinking of her next words. "Uh-uh...and the sky is above us and the ground is below us," ¡°I felt their terror, anger, sadness. Their regret, their desires¡­¡± Kora once again tried to dig the words out of her. It was difficult, putting the things she felt into words. It was as if she spoke of a different person, of a different time.¡°And I also felt a...Hope.¡± The Captain raised his eyebrows ¡°That¡¯s good, I guess? Lieutenant, what does that have to do with anything?¡± The Captain was yet to be comfortable with the mood swings accompanying her Songs. ¡°Their Hope sir, was guilt-ridden. It reeked of desperation, of hatred and self-loathing.¡± Kora cursed herself. She was being sentimental. It was never good being sentimental.¡°The point is, sir,¡± Kora whispered, ¡°...Is that one of the commanders is planning to betray the Empire. One part of the army, I don¡¯t know which, is planning to somehow save itself at the cost of everyone else. Those soldiers are cursing themselves for it, yet they remain hopeful of its success." The Captain groaned heavily, his shoulders slumping. ¡°Argh, wasn''t pleasent the last time someone did that. How do you know that, Lieutenant?¡± ¡°I just do, sir¡± Kora, for just an instance, saw the Captain past his bulging muscles, past the indomitable will and countless scars which riddled the old man. She saw him for what he was: a tired thing past his prime. Isn¡¯t he forty? Shouldn¡¯t he be dying soon? His hair is already gone, if only his foolish life would fol- The Captain hung his head in defeat, almost comically so. His cheeks were puffed, pouting childishly.He walked past her, resting his heavy hand on her shoulders. ¡°Let''s go back soldier, we have a lot of work to get to.¡± With a heavy sigh, the Captain went back into the commander''s tent. Kora stared at the battlefield, for a moment. She listened to the sounds of steel clashing, the shaking ofthe earth by magics giftedby treacherous Gods, and the quick fleeting of thousands of lives. Nothing. She couldn''t care less if the entire earth around the noisy soldiers would to fall and save her the annoyance of lisening to their screams. Kora spat beyond the hill, cursing whichever and whatever God, Titian, Voidling, Demon, or Devil was pulling the strings this time. 1. The City That Will Burn ****** Forged with metal and stone instead of fragile and inflammable wood, the Profectus Empire traded military and economical structural advances for its citizens'' well-being. Yet as enormous and lavish the Profectus may be, living space remains to be scarce, even in this endlessly vast earth. To this nation, war brings fortune and death in equal measures, dealing destitution to the families of those who quite unfortunately died. Many more fall victim to the cold and disease in the gutters of the city. Such is the case of this little boy, seemingly of fourteen years, ogling the warm interiors of a certain, modest cafe. This cafe resided in the Second District, a few buildings away from the District Hall, attracting the most prominent customers in the area. Countless city men and women would walk upon the gray and white cobblestones, shiny leather shoes going in and out of City Hall regularly throughout the day. The streets are especially abundant on Main Street at about 7 o''clock nearing sunset, the current time of day. The boy, short and dirty, stood out in the street full of fine men in black suits and gorgeous top hats, from time to time escorted by gorgeous women with stylish dresses and glamorous faces. A rough gray scarf, a brown coat with a couple shirts underneath, and darkish pants washed by dirt were all he had to contest against the bitterness of the ashen cold. Dreary light sapped whatever human warmth was left in the poor boy. Hunched forward, he pressed his pale hands against the lukewarm glass windows, seeing a world beyond reach. The insides cozy and lavish that the air itself seemed yellow and lustrous. Even the chairs were golden, embellished by countless designs of eloquent symbols and of mystical beasts enthralled by what looked like olive branches. The olive branches design stretched along its golden legs, behind the soft red cushion and expanded into an upside U for the spine of the chair. The hot soups, chunks of beef, and sweet bread oozing of yellow cream entranced the boy¡¯s eyes, incapacitating him. Yet, even with all the wonderful sight of food and alluring women, he could not block the sight of his reflection. A face white as snow, holding a few scratches on his cheeks and the bottom of his chin, his red ears warmed by a fair amount of black hair. His red nose stubbornly braced itself against the sharp winds of January. Releasing a handful of fog from his dry lips into his soft hands, his mind drew blank, drifting off. With vacant eyes the boy released one last puff and readied himself to depart, to drift alongside the endless amount of humans, until a heavy hand took a tight grasp of his shoulder, holding him in place. Surprised, the boy turned with eyebrows slightly raised at the man behind him. The man was no different from the passer-bys: black leather shoes, black suit, and a dark top hat. His brown eyes though held a certain tenderness to them. Standing at 5.5 feet tall with a round belly and thick skin. The man had opened his mouth to speak, but the little boy interrupted him ¡° Sorry sir, am I being a bother? I apologize, I was just about to leave.¡¯¡¯ The boy talked in quick succession as if he feared to squander the man¡¯s time with his words. Beggars were illegal in the Second District. Before the boy could attempt to vanish into the hectic crowd, the man hurriedly spoke up in the proper Profuctus accent, emphasizing the vowels above the word itself ¡®¡¯Now wait a moment young lad! Are you really going to leave after having a chance to dine on the food you were eying?¡¯¡¯The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. The boy, confused at the man''s words, and replied in an awkward and appropriate ¡®¡¯Eh?¡¯¡¯ The man in return replied with a colossal smile befitting his size and spoke in a vehement tone. ¡®¡¯I¡¯m in a mood to dine tonight, would you care to join me?!¡¯¡¯ The boy stared at the man. After a slightly long pause, the words sunk in, with it his face--a face of delight, of hot ardor, of a surprise full of glee, abruptly changing into confliction, a fair amount of puzzlement, and a whole lot of hesitation. ¡®¡¯What¡¯s your name, boy?¡¯¡¯ ¡®¡¯I-I¡¯m Lucius. Ahm..Thank you, sir but-¡¯¡¯ ¡®¡¯Lucious? What a fine name! It¡¯s ¡®luc¡¯ stems from the Latin word for light, did you know that? I wish I had a name as astonishing as yours, Lucius, but quite, unfortunately, mine happens to be a simple and common Argento Danario!¡¯¡¯ Argento¡¯s voice cut loud through the crowd as he extended his arm right hand, a hand that was received awkwardly. Lucious responded ¡®¡¯¡¯It¡¯s...a pleasure to meet you, Sir.Willaim.¡¯¡¯ ¡®¡¯Likewise. Now, shall we head inside?¡¯¡¯ Argento grabbed Lucious by the shoulders and led him in, paying no heed to his obvious reluctance. Unsurprisingly, the old man left a thick, somewhat pleasant scent with each stride he took, concealing the smell of the damp earth that was seeping out of the boy. The unfamiliar fragrance tickled Lucious little nose, but the aroma that was beyond the opened doors overflowed his nose with wonder and lust. With each step taken into the cafe, with each breath taken from the crowded tables, a new and splendid fragrance filled his lungs; whether it was the sweet Bakewell Tart or the mouthwatering steam of beef melting in the soup, it all struck the boy the same: exotic, and simply far, far too sumptuous for him. Argento and Lucious strolled through the cafe, passing by a few filled tables full of exquisite faces of groomed men and alluring young women. The cafe sparkled richly, from the silverware to the golden ceiling and to the very food itself, accompanied by a soft and soothing melody. Looking at the white, glimmering piano, Lucious could see the pianist seated on a heightened stage. The young lady did not wear a lustrous dress, as it usually went, but instead opted for a gloomy suit. The curvy brunette hair resting on her shoulders was the only indication that she was female, her chest tight and her back straight. She was, of course, handsome, as was expected of a performer, though oddly containing two visible scars, one a finger long across her left lips, and another across her right eyebrow. She played each note softly, tones quietly shifting in the background. Long fingers moved at their own pace and mind, dark green eyes ignoring the music sheet. Argento smiled upon witnessing the young lad¡¯s obvious fascination with the woman ¡®¡¯Kora Dette, a lavish gift from Nrial...¡± Argento paused after glancing at Lucious ¡°...Our ally, to the north. She received a scholarship from the wretched Academy. Such a shame, for her to only play the piano as a hobby.¡¯¡¯ He grunted in displeasure. ¡®¡¯I¡¯m not very familiar with the Academy¡¯s particular activities, but I do know it trains and educates future military powerhouses.¡¯¡¯ Lucious sat down in front of Argento, glancing sideways at Kora. ¡®¡¯Yes, but it''s¡­.more than that. Not a good place I dare say. They start with these children too early, way too early, and it ruins them.¡¯¡¯ He grimaced, his plump face reddening slightly. Fuck you too fatty. At least I don¡¯t have two chins. Interrupting Argent¡¯s rant was a pretty lady in black pants and a white buttoned up shirt, a handsome bow tie below her chin. Lucious peeked at her, first at her brown eyes, and then down at her more attractive parts. When she glanced at him, his eyes panicked and turned away. The blood of his cheeks to resurfaced, his eyes rampaging across the previously vast cafe, seeking a place to hide. The waitress smiled at him and attempted to hide a chuckle as she walked away. Lucious eyes drifted towards her back, face as vacant as before. One of the few perks of being a child, I guess. ¡®¡¯This cafe is absolutely exquisite! You see that crystal chandelier up there? It¡¯s quite expensive to work, constructed from light crystals and linked in gold, a very transmissive metal, and hardened silver to adjoined with the...¡¯¡¯ Ignoring the old man''s rumbling, Lucious surveyed the handsome men, beautiful women, and shiny, shiny objects. The Beggar savored the bittersweet taste of this dish he could not have. Lucious tugged at his lips, nodding and smiling slightly, his voice small and smooth. Lucious awaited his meal, nodding and awing whenever the need arose, and bid his time. 2. Teaching Soldiers How To Die The Third Regiment, First Company, consisted mostly of foreigners, oddballs, and plain unlucky soldiers. 100 men and 20 women stood at attention in 10 lines, each 12 units large. The Captain, a 6 foot 5 giant rugged giant patrolled his Company for any violators. Fanatical eyes searched for guilty faces. His steps were heavy, his tight muscles ready to flex. The whip behind his back eagerly called out to him, begging for its next victim. Only recently, he¡¯d noticed one of his men groping the female soldier in front of him. Such occurrences were far too common in the army, and usually, he would let the victims fend for themselves. The Captain believed anyone soldier incapable of defending themselves will be incapable of defending their Company. As the Captain, however, such activities will not go unpunished under his watch. He was their Captain, and them his slaves. Any breach of rules under his scrutiny is an insult to his authority. The foolish lad underestimated the old giant¡¯s sight. The soldier believed that he was far enough, sneaky enough. But whatever the Captain cannot see, his little crows can. They flew overhead, making their nests in the dense forests. His soldiers had errored greatly. They had believed such a large brute was incapable of possessing Magic Capacity. They were wrong. He was a Tamer, the profession which the gentlest of personalities pursued. The Captain let two days pass before catching the young soldier with his own eyes. During the morning drills, the Captain would typically patrol in a set pattern, mainly to lure mischievous idiots into a false sense of security. Whenever he needed to catch someone, he would just need to break the pattern and turn at an odd time, with the assistance of his crows of course. The Captain was infamous for knowing things he should not know. They attributed this to brute, savage intuition. You tend to forget that the enemy''s greatest visible strength, is not his only strength. With the cackle of a crow, the Captain abruptly swung around, his eyes catching the soldier The boy, no older than 18, as most of them are, had a smirk on his face. Typical brat from a rich family. He thought he was O so clever, harassing the young lady in her moment of vulnerability. Either she would make a scene, and receive my wrath, or she could bite her teeth swallow the humiliation. The Captain commended the young soldier''s bold move, for he has taken advantage of his opponent, and such characteristics are encouraged in the First Company. Getting caught, however, is something the First Company does not approve of. The fear on the young boy showed. His pink face turned pale, and his stretched hands shook slightly. His hands were clearly feeling the young lady¡¯s behind, though surprisingly you wouldn¡¯t be able to tell it from her face. Stern and vacant, she showed no signs of being harassed. The Captain smiled, a big, wide, happy smile as he walked from one end of the Company to the other. Among 120 person soldiers, the Captain was able to single-handedly notice a soldier breaking the formation! What beast like instincts! The Captain chuckled as he reached the shaking soldier. Blond hair, blue eyes. A brat from a minor noble family. The Captain was 40 years old, having spent the last 12 years raising through the command ladder, and in all of his years, most troublemakers were like this one. They do not know fear. The Captain will teach it. The Captain very slowly pulled out a 7¡± combat knife from his side. He held it up to the weak sunlight, savoring its sharpness. It was his precious--a small treasure expensive enough to kill for. Sharp steel coated with obsidian gave it a grim, savage appearance. The blade was sharp enough to cut through steel armor if handled correctly, making the Captain favor close combat before all else. He could have bought a small pistol, though where is the fun in killing with that? He twirled it in his hands, letting the young lad imagine the atrocities that would be done to him. Will he bepunished now? An execution was not unheard of, though most referred to whipping and exile instead of getting their hands dirty. If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. The Captain, however, was merciful, as he would usually end their pathetic lives instead of letting them suffer. That would not work on this lot. These arrogant snobs did not believe they would die. It was always the person next to them that would perish, just never them. Words were pointless. Actionsspeak louder, or in this case, will scream louder. The Captain stepped to the right, now facing the female soldier. He extended his arm, the handle of the knife facing her. ¡°Cut it.¡± He ordered the soldier. Momentarily confused, her face contorted slightly, but she willed her form correctly. ¡°Cut what sir?¡± she replied. Incorrectly. The Captain resisted the urge to bellow, willing it further inside his body. This was not the time. His voice deepened, the silence echoing his voice ¡°His hand, soldier. Cut his hand. Off.¡± A crow croaked in the distance. The blood drained from her face. The poor lad behind her behind was worse off. The Captain eagerly anticipated some type of resistance from either of them. Only then, would he truly beable to drill some type of obedience into this Company. ********** Irritated, the Captain walked briskly through the two halves of the company. He was looking forward to feeding his crows, but unfortunately, the young soldier did not disobey orders. As foolish as the lad was, he knew any type of resistance would have just ended his life sooner. Now, he would just die later. Initially, the Captain was very disappointed with the female soldier¡¯s lack of resistance to the lad¡¯s harassment. True, she was not able to defend her dignity right there and then, but there were many, many more things she could have done later on. There are many ways to kill a man in two days. She probably would have been caught, but her honor would have remained. A soldier¡¯s honor is the only thing that will keep him from deserting a lost battle...and death maybe, but some do get by. Honor is more trustworthy, the Captain believed. It will help his men and women march to their deaths. His disappointment with her, however, ended as soon as the grinding of bone began. She grew grim, angry, vicious as she fumbled with the dagger. This Company was fresh. It knew nothing yet. But when the moment his knife cut through the other side of the hand that insulted her, the soldier grew, with it his Company. The lad passed out, defecating himself halfway through.This did not solve his shortage of food for his crows, but it did improve his mood. In order to solve that particular issue, the Captain announced that there will be a skirmish today. This time, he did not resist the urge to flex his lungs. ¡°The boundaries will be a square mile large in the forest. The first team to find and knock down the other team''s pole will win. The losing team will perform all the chores for the next week!¡± That punishment by itself, combined with the usual workout routine of the soldiers, is bound to him a couple of weak-willed bodies. ¡°Wooden swords will be 15¡± long, daggers will be 6¡±, and bow and blunt arrows will be weapon selection.¡± A wooden sword can¡¯t cut through skin, but it will splinter bones. "Spears will be available for the unskilled." ¡°If no pole falls in the next three hours, this Company will end up shining the boots of the Second Regiment. Prepare for combat, soldiers!¡± The Captain allowed a one hour preparation period. For a typical Company, that time period is excessively abundant. This Company, however, is anything but typical. Fresh and undisciplined, one hour to split positions, roles, assign a leader and captain, as well as create a tactic for winning, would be a far cry. Yet time was precious, and he could not spare any of it before the next war against the next kingdom would start. The Captain felt his age wear on him. This Company won¡¯t be prepared in time. If only Kora was here, I would have a semblance of a chance. He shook his hand. He was her Captain, yet he had no authority over her. It irritated him, not having direct command over one of hismost capable lieutenants. In the end, however, it mattered not to the Captain. His career was already over, his life stagnant. This was as far as he could reach, for his eyes were not blue, and his blood not pure. With resignation, he watched his little kids beat each other with sticks. Soon they wouldpass in an insignificant skirmish, and soon a new batch will replace them. Until then, the weak will befodder forthe only worthy thing left in this world for him: his lonely crows. 3. The Dead And The Dying Kora stood at attention, the Captain¡¯s broad back facing her. The old man only seemed to increase in size, Kora noted. ¡°Lieutenant, why were you not present yesterday?¡± The Captain asked, more out of respect for formalities than for necessities. He remained to gaze out his window-- for what, Kora did not know. There was nothing but an empty field and vast forests in the distance. For the dramatic effect, she assumed. The Captain was always a sucker for melodrama. ¡°I had personal duties to attend for, sir¡± That will pop several nerves, but it was leagues better than informing him of her distaste for early mornings. What¡¯s more, it was winter! The Captain¡¯s thick skin did not allow him to feel winter¡¯s bitter bite, but everyone else in that thin uniform would. The army was cheap to its bones, handing out black pants and one dark short-sleeved shirt. It was cotton, but infamously itchy when sweat seeped into it. The Captain grunted, turning to face her. He was growing a rough beard, probably out of laziness than fashion. He stared at her with blunt irritation. He was not, Kora assumed, all too glad to receive a Lieutenant who did not act upon his orders. ¡°Were you aware of the harassment that several female soldiers, as well as few male soldiers, were receiving by the new crop?¡± The Captain was not in a good mood. Kora took it as an indication of just how well today''s mock battle proceded. Kora did. ¡°Yes sir, I was aware of it.¡± The Captain¡¯s gaunt face was typically stagnant in irritation as if the very process of breathing was bothersome. That usually means she could not read his face, but this time she could. A nerve atop his right eyebrow pulsed. The Captain probably did not appreciate her sense of humor that was carried in that ¡®was.¡¯ Surprisingly, he let it go, much like the young lad''s hand. She giggled inside at that. ¡°And Lieutenant, I¡¯m sure you are aware that such abuse has been outlawed two years ago?¡± She did. ¡°Yes sir, I am aware of that too.¡± His voice increased, ever so slightly ¡°Then Lieutenant, as a soldier, you are aware that reporting illegal activities is part of your duties, correct?¡± His eyebrow went up now, most likely on purpose. Oh, get on with it, old man. I have a concert in two hours. ¡°Yes sir, I am also aware of that.¡± This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. The Captain smiled at that. It was never good when the Captain smiled. One word too many Kora, one word too many. It wasn¡¯t time for her to bare her fangs. Such emotional outburst was most unusual. God did she want to play the piano right now. How unfortunate for Rubie''s Cafe to be an hour away. ¡°Then enlighten me, Lieutenant, on why I should not have you whipped first thing this morning for disobeying army orders.¡± He had her at that. She was under no pressure beyond her personal advantage to heed the Captain¡¯s orders outside of combat, but she had every law against her in disobeying army wide protocol. Other than me being five times more capable than your next fodder? Let me see. ¡°Well sir, I would have been breaking protocol if my commanding officer...¡± If you even qualify as one ¡°...was not already aware of the harassment, sir¡± The Captains eyebrows, both of them this time, went up. ¡°Lieutenant, no other student informed me-¡± Kora boldly cut him off this time. What gamble this is, Kora. ¡°I wasn¡¯t referring to the students, sir¡± Kora said,almost letting a smirkescape her lips. She saw it on his face, too, the realization dawning on the Captain¡¯s right eyebrow. Two nerve pulses this time, instead of the usual one. ¡°I see,¡± his voice sinking into resignation, pausing slightly. ¡°You are dismissed, Lieutenant.¡± His face showed no other signs, no fire or breath in them. She almost felt bad for the old man. The rust was showing, slowly, but surely. With a hud! Kora spun her on her heels and turned away. Before she closed the door, she looked into the plain room, at the tall brute vacantly staring at her. ¡°The field misses you, sir¡± Kora parted her message with more scorn than intended. He used to be The Third Regiment''s legend, the dragon roaming the field in a fit of roars and howls, spilling as much blood with his shield as with his long sword, a combination only applicable to men of enormous strength and control. He was the very reason she joined this haggard regiment. 10 years ago, when she was 15, and the Profectus and Nrial were quarreling, Kora had witnessed his sword rip through her father¡¯s mail armor with utter easy. That person was not human. She was filled not withrage that time, but with awe at such a magnificent show of force and technique. The usage of his shield was innovative, tactically using it topushhis way into the guards of his opponents, running them down with either pure force or misdirection. He had agility far behind the limitations of his giant body. His platoon followed in his wake, covering his sides with spears as he broke the enemies formation. If she had been fighting alongside''s her father, her head would no doubt have been next. The horns signaling retreat saved her life. Her heart knew fear then, the sweating and beating of her heart vivid in her memory. Such a shamethislegend would spend the rest of his days rotting off in this dark corner of the world. 4. A Rich Mans Kindness Argento stared, horror obvious on his pink face. He swallowed heavily, sweat already accumulating across his forehead. Argento was an engineer, a very good one at that, graduating from Cognition university with an architecture specialization. He has been working at Second Regiment for the past five years, building beautiful homes with sturdy stone and timber. He had repaired and built fine barracks for most of the lower Companies soldiers. He¡¯d spent a good chunk of his time observing the art of war, the unforgettable lessons and cunning commanders. What he was observing, however, was not part of the curriculum. Two mobs, one in white, the other in black, were viciously decimating one another. Already the dirt was covered with moaning bodies. Argento held a small monocular to his right eye, attempting to make sense of the chaos. "Wherehasthe gracegone! The formations, the dance of swords and battle of tacticians? These are just kids battering each other with sticks!¡± Argento exclaimed. The Captain glanced sideways, and a foot down, silencing Argento¡¯s cry. With courage, however, Argento pushed on ¡°I-I mean sir, most of these soldiers are adolescents! What is the purpose of this mock battle?¡± The Captain sighed. And he thought he¡¯d had enough kids to babysit. ¡°Listen, young man, these ¡®kids¡¯ will be deployed in three weeks due. These are greenhorns, the 8th bastard sons of minor nobles, and citizens who picked a fight with the wrong guy. The most I can do is introduce them to Battlelust, lest it blinds them in battle.¡± His tone was purposefully insulting, as if spoken to a child. Strictly, he was not allowed to abuse non-combatant support units. That , however, did not mean the Captain will cuddle whatever pink balls the higher ups throw at him. ¡°Better they fight like chickens without their heads here, than there.¡± The Captain pointed North. ¡°T-that¡¯s¡­¡± Argento was at a loss for words. He was a 25-year-old man, more familiar with the charms of old totems than what makes his meals. Never had he believed that the army was this...crude. ¡°You will have two weeks to utilize the defeated soldiers in order to establish the new barracks. 9 other captains will each send 60 men. I received word that the Third Regiment will double in size, a thousand men increase at the very least, for the upcoming war against The Legion.¡± The Captain informed the unfortunate man. Exhaustion already began to seep into Argento¡¯s bones. ¡°Where would those soldiers come from? I thought we had already reache-¡± ¡°Beggars, orphans, widows, anyone that can pick up apitch-fork will be drafted, and God knows there are a ton of those rotting in the city. Those who survive will be rewarded with rice¡± The Captain spit to the side, making his discomfort with such tactics obvious. This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. ¡°Now is the time to strike at the Legion. We will overwhelm them with numbers side by side with the Nrialians. A pincer attack will whittle their defenses down.¡± Argento resigned himself. The First Regiment was the elite force of the empire, a thousand men and women trained from the day they were born. The Second Regiment consisted mainly of common blood risen from the Third Regiment, where most new blood starts. In all,this army was three thousand strong. The same goes for the rest of the Empire''s cities. ¡°Wait!¡± Argento called out to the Captain as he turned away. ¡°If the army will increase by a thousand, then why not create a Fourth Regiment?¡± The Captain grimaced. He did not want to answer this question. ¡°Because, young lad, most of whom will be departing in three weeks will not be coming back. We are unable to permanently maintain numbers sufficient enough for a Fourth Regiment throughout the war.¡± The Captain turned away hastily, ending the conversation.Losing a Regiment would hit morale and increase desertion. The words were left unspoken, but Argento¡¯s pale face understood. The purpose of this war was not just expansion. This was a warwould also serveto cleanse the cities of its overpopulation problem. *** Each step Argento took was heavier than the last. At the very least, his leather shoes bounced off the cobblestone instead of sinking in. There were no more atrocious bugs to feast on his blood either, which did wonders for his mood. Dark times are coming. Argento had a few days to pack his stuff and start living at the Third Regiment. The number of hours that he will have to put in raised his blood pressure. He would receive a huge amount of assistance, as well as a few full-fledged architects to orchestrate this project, yet most of the new barracks will have to be of the poorest and most degrading qualities, otherwise half of the new crop will have to sleep the night bare. Argento looked up, his thick coat keeping him cozy. His ears and nose, however, were bright pink. Winter was getting worse. The number soldiers that will die of disease and the cold...Argento shook his head. He received a promotion! Now is not the time for grim thoughts. He was finally making headway into the world. No doubt this would lead him further up in the world, no doubt indeed. Argento kept walking, recalling the many necessities he would require for his long extended trip. His eyes, however, picked up upon a gaunt figure to his right, staring hungrily into the Rubie¡¯s Cafe. Hunger is horrifying, lad, Trust me, I feel your pain. The poor boy¡¯s clothing was thin and worn, provoking no apt protection against the cold. The boy was a bit shorter than Argento, yet his small figure saddened Argento. It was time for a good deed, he decided. He walked up to the boy, placing his hands upon the lad¡¯s shoulders. The lad, probably mistaking him for a Correction Officer, actually apologized and attempted to squeeze his way out. "Now wait a moment young lad! Are you really going to leave after having a chance to dine on the food you were eying?¡¯¡¯ Argento smiled. See, he told himself, it will work out. 5. Phase One Begins TM
Kayn R.
General Information Attributes
Level 5 Name Value Name Value
Species Human Strength 8 Constitution 10
Class N/A Dexterity 9 Charisma 7(-5)
Profession N/A Agility 13(+3)
Age 21 Endurance 16
HP 110/110(+1.1/hour) Intelligence 13
STM 176/176(+2/sec) Wisdom 8
Overall STM 540/880(+6.6/hour) Deep Sleepbonus 440% Will 15
Status Effects
Filthy -5 Charisma -100% Smell Stealth -20% Stealth Intimidation effects increased by 20%.
Unsanitary Increase 50% total chance of encountering disease.
Hungry Decrease efficiency of every action by 20%
Paths
Battle Points: 0 Achievement Points: 0
The Endurer (UC) 0/35 B "You are an insect in the face of all things. A sturdy cockroach, maybe, but a cockroach all the same." Prequiset: Survivor''s Path?. Must have experienced Trauma. Initiate the Culling with 15 in Endurance and Will.
Omniscient Deserter(UC)0/25 A "You learned when to run. It seems you will go far." Prequiset: Soldier''s Path ?. Desert threelost battles, from three different armies.
WarChild ? 0/5 A, 0/10 B "Like Father, like son." Lose both parents in battle. Participate ina War when age is below 12.
Perks
BattleLolie (UC) "Tiny, but mighty!" Prerequisite: Soldier''s Path? PrerequisiteMinor Perks: Slim ?, Short ?, Small ?, Youth Beyond Years (UC), Intermediate Murder? Increase Total Mobility by 10% +1 for Charisma +3 Agility Overencumbered threshold decreased by 25%.
Minor Post-traumatic Stress Disorder? "You may have forgotten, but your body has not." Decrease Emotional Stability by 10% IncreaseSTM consumption by 10%Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Overall STM Sleep regenerationdecreased by 10%.
Made For War (UC) "Your body has no other purpose." Prerequisite Paths: Soldier''s Path?,War Veteran?, Survivor''s Path?, Prerequisite Attributes: 10 in Endurance,Will, andConstitution Prerequisite Actions: Participate in 5 battles. Increase MAX HP, STM, and Overall STM by 10% Increase HP, STM, and Overall STM regeneration by 10% Marching Energy consumption decreased by 30% Overall STM increased by 25%.
Skills
Intermediate Spear Proficiency Level 4 (UC) "The Spear is an extension of you, a very sharp one at that." Increase total Spear Effects by 14% Increase Spear handling by 28% Increase Thurst Speed by 28% Increase Pierce Power by 28% Spear Energy consumptionreduced by 28%.
Intermediate TenacityLevel 5 (UC) "Your muscles willmelt and your bones will crumble, but do you really care?" STM regeneration increased by 25% Crowd Control effects on you are reduced by 15% Debuff for Minor STM Break reduced by 15% Mind Defense increased by 15%.
Intermediate Dodge level 9 (UC) "Theirendurance willbreak before they could shoot you down" Increase Melee AttacksDodgechanceby 19% Increase Range Attacks Dodgechance by 24.7%.
Abilities
Frenzy Level 7 ? "Why think, when you could attack? Until all enemy hostile unitsare incapacitated, Increase Total Offensive Effects by 50%, STMconsumption by 25%, while lowering Total Defensive Effects by 25%. Depending on the number of enemy hostile units, Drawback will occur if canceled prematurely.
Intermediate Powerful Spear Thrust level 2 ? "The technique responsible for nearly every death in war." Thrust forward, increasing power and speed by up to 50%. Costs 10 STM.
Lucious went still, the fork carrying crispy pork just a few inches away from his salivating mouth. Semi-transparent blue screens covered most of his vision. An influx of numbers, foreign words, and an odd body sensation overwhelmed his senses. The first thing his eyes observed was the title of the screen: Kayn R. Kayn R. was supposed to be long dead, killed in a battle against The Legion, five years ago. No one remembers that name, no one but Lucious. With a groan Lucious lowered his hands on the table, one holding a small steel knife, the other a fork. He closed his eyes, exhaling completely, inhaling deeply, and Willed his mind to return to sanity. He opened his eyes again, hoping the disillusions to disperse. This was very disheartening for Lucious, he truly thought he was better than this.
No Mental Attacks detected
His blood began to simmer. He¡¯s seen what madness could do to people. Their whimpers were clear in his mind, the crazed look in their twitchy eyes was always present. Their bodies always moved erratically, their speech irregular and hectic. They were a pathetic bunch, mostly veterans without an arm or leg, usually with war trauma to haunt them at night. Lucious would rather kill himself before he would succumb to such vile state. While this wasn¡¯t wholly unlivable, spendingthe rest of his life with blue screens covering most of his vision would eventually drive him to a great feat of insanity. Now they¡¯re gone. They had vanished as soon as Lucious wished for them to be. Impressive! His insanity wasquite accommodating. Lucious glanced at his surroundings, attempting to appraise just how fucked up he currently was. To his surprise, a mix of confusion and fear was apparent on Argento¡¯s plump face, as well as every other person his eyes could peep at. Argento¡¯s response was very clear, for his chair had tipped over and his clothes were ruffled. The poor man probably fell backward upon the screens¡¯ abrupt awakening. Now he was standing up, his sweaty palmsholding the tablecloth tightly while his eyesdarted around on high alert. Chaos was already brewing around Lucious. Fear was a common emotion, as nothing could cause such mass hysteria but a very, very good Illusion related incantation. Lucious immediately dismissed that thought when his birth-given name showed. Control Magic had to be used with extremely specific instructions; for a group as large as 30 people to be under different spell effects? Unlikely. A dream then, Lucious thought. Since this is a dream, should I?... After glancing around all thewomen he could grope, Lucious promptly thought better of it. These dreams would usually end as soon as the tender sensation reached his fingers. Instead, he opted for finishing his long-awaited meal. Lucious nodded to himself when the slice of meat melted on his tongue. The cluster of flavors released furtherconfirmedhis correct choice. His body instincts took over from their, his facade dropping as he began to rip into the meat with his teeth. What point was there in keeping up appearances in dreams? I would kill for this meat. I mean I have, but I would kill even more. Finding a way into the Second district was no easy task. This meal, however, made all the time he had spenttosmugglehimself inside thedistrictworth it--even if it was all but a long and quite sophisticated dream. This being a dream did not mean he could not handsomely reward himself. And so, while impeding chaos threatened the Profectus Empire, Lucious fed on an exquisite chunk of pork, a few baked potatoes, fresh tomatoes, lettuce, and onions. Inevitably, that apple tart would soon follow after. The few prompts that did foolishly attempt to distract Lucious from his deeds were ruthlessly put down, allowing the vibrant spectrum of spices to fill up all his valuable senses.
Phase One of The Culling has been initiated "First Goes The Filth"
The area "Rubie''s Cafe" is now locked. Destroy all hostile units to exit.
A rotting hand stuck out through the marble flooring, right below Lucious. He watched it as it attempted to crawl it''s way out, low growls echoing its frustration.Ts, not very creative,are we? The undead raising? really? that''s the best I can come up with?With a tired grunt, Lucious returned to his meal, doing his best to ignore the screams around him. Lucious might be homeless, poor, and filthy, but he was not, under any circumstances,despicable enough to leave a plate half-eaten. He kicked the beast back into the ground. 6. Knife And Fork
Hunger Status Removed
Advanced Food Consumed Increase HP, STM, and Overall STM regeneration by 30% Deep Sleep Bonus increased by 100% Total Growth increased by 20% +5 Will +1 All Attributes
Lucious nodded. Say something about these blue screens, say they know what a good meal is. Holding his knife and spoon tightly, Lucious jolted up, getting off the ground slightly backward, then as his foot hit the edge of his chair, he lunged forward, getting on top of the table, and away from the hand that attempted to claw at him. Lucious turned around, keeping hiscenter of gravity low enough for quick movement.
Level 7 Ghoul
Without a breath¡¯s pause, the 5 feet Ghoul lunged forward again, swiping with both of its claws at Lucious¡¯s feet. Having anticipated it, Lucious had jumped forward,alreadyabove the creature by the time it had overextended itself. Lucious extended his foot forward as he was in the air, pivoting his entire body upon the creature¡¯s shoulder as he fell downward. With his entire weight, Lucious stabbed the creature¡¯s neck as he fell. Avoiding the spine, the 3-inch kitchen knife had pierced all the way to its hilt, the momentum carrying it down four inches across the ghoul¡¯s rotting skin.
CRITICAL HIT 100% INCREASED DAMAGE. Backstabbed 50% increased damage. Arteries hit, Applies 20% Per Sec Max HP Bleeding until healed.
Assoonas Lucious completed his strike, he left the blade inside thecreature''s neckas he stepped slightly backward and ducked.The Ghoul immediately spunaroundwith a screech, swiping at its assailant with its left hand,carrying the momentum of the turn with it.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Finding nothing, the creature¡¯s attack once again threw it off balance, giving Lucious just enough time to fling himself from his crouching position. The creature being as tall as Lucious, easily allowed him to counter-attack. This time, his fork sunk itself a couple inches inside the beast¡¯s eyeball.
CRITICAL HIT 100% INCREASED DAMAGE Confusion and Half-Blindness Status inflicted
Now that Lucious was standing inches from its rot filled face, the creature would probably try to bear-hug him. The moment Lucious second blade pierced through, he took a half step backward, allowing himself just enough space to bring his leg in, and then out right into the center of the Ghoul¡¯s chest, knocking the small beast into the table. It landed right on top of the table, splitting the table in two. Luscious took a step back, panting heavily. Feeling the adrenaline inside his body, an old sensation was coming back, with it a hint of fear. Three seconds after, the Ghoul stopped thrashing
Level 7 Ghoul Killed Gained 3 Battle Points Gained 15 Achievement points for Flawless Victory against first Hostile Unite. Gained 5 Achievement points for Superb Technical Performance
Path Opened: Knife and Fork ? Fear the mighty fork of doom! 0/50 A 0/50 B Requirement: Kill a higher Level enemy with eating utensils.
Status Gained: Bloodlust The glories of battle call out to you. Increase total offensive power by 20%. Decrease defensive power by 10%.
This shit is no dream, Lucious realized as he furtively glanced around. All the Ghouls were engaged, creating a massive slaughter. None of these men or women would be able to fight, and from what he could tell, there was one Ghoul for every two persons. The smart ones stayed and held their ground with whatever the could, while the stupid ones attempted to escape through the locked doors. This was a losing battle. The blue screens hadn¡¯t vanished yet, though they were transparent enough to see through. After promptly studying them, Lucious came up to the conclusion that he, in fact, did not know what the fuck was going on. That did not matter, however, for his muscles were aching for more. Swallowing, Lucious surrendered himself to his urges. Thinking would come after he had sufficiently killed everything.
Status Gained: Heightened Bloodlust: The glories of battle call out to you. You will answer. Increase total offensive power by 30%. Decrease defensive power by 15%.
7. The Dead Butcher As much Lucious wanted to get into the middle of the fuckfest, doing so with his bare fists was a sure way to become the Ghoul¡¯s meal. He¡¯s seen what those teeth could do to bones, and he would rather keep all his flesh on his body at all times. Instead, and only for this time, Lucious thought, he would do the right thing first. Dodging a few broken tables, a few men skirmishing with chairs in their hands, and a Ghoul having the meal of his life, Lucious quickly making his way to the kitchen door, where all the pointy objects were kept. Halfway through, however, he heard the piano. It was a slight, condensed sound. Quite and experimental, the same way a hesitant child might press the keys. A man fell, screaming as Ghoul made mincemeat out of him. Through the gap, he saw the pianist, 20 meters away, the same one who was previously playing. Short and wavy dark brown hair covered her ears. She had her eyes closed as she played softly. Lucious once again found himself staring at her. There was something that was off. He spent a few dangerous moments standing still, his mind slightly blank. Then she opened her eyes, looking directly at Lucious. Dark green. Then absolute horror filled his mind. That¡¯s all he saw before every fiber of his being screamed at him. His body moved, his mind momentarily losing conscious. By the time he snapped out of it, he found his himself running towards the kitchen, cold sweat covering his back. And Fear, lots, lots of Fear.
Skill Gained: Seventh Sense ? What your mind won¡¯t understand, your body will.
Ignoring the status screen, and swallowinga painful lump of weakness, Lucious broke through the crowd, gaining in vision of the kitchen entrance. Blocking the double doors was the brawny Chef, in all his might and glory, wielding a foot long butcher Cleaver, the perfect meat cutting tool. His left hand at a heavy set of iron gloves, originally used to bring out hot pots out of smoldering brick ovens, this one was used to block strikes from overeager Ghouls. Surprisingly, thisChef was sufficiently able to hold off two Ghouls, though not without getting a few deep gashes on his thick arms. Standing next to him were two assistance with pointy knives, slashing whenever the Ghoul¡¯s tried to circle the Chef. Probably, it was the only reason the Ghouls didn''t try to run the Chief down. Smart guy, holding a narrow point instead of fighting in the open. The Ghouls were even smarter though, since from the looks of things, they¡¯ll last longer. The Ghoul¡¯s dark purple blood was mixed with theChef''s red, coloring the giant man¡¯s apron in a wide variety of colors. The Chief kept attempting to get a deep cut, but each time the Ghoul stepped back. The moment they would leave the doors covering their backs, was the moment the Ghouls would strike. The dead waitress on the ground, the same one that had previously served Lucious, was proof of that. TheChef and his men weren¡¯t quick enough to lock them down, but Lucious was. His muscles pulsed, the adrenaline soaking his blood in sedatives, urging him forward. His bones felt tight, sturdy steel instead of brittle sticks. Pumping himself forward, Lucious charged, savoring the air¡¯s embrace as his shoulder crashed into the unsuspecting Ghoul. Their body weights being roughly equal, all Lucious did was tip the beast forward a few stuttering steps. TheChef was surprised but promptly took advantage of the opportunity. He lifted the Cleaver over his head, expertly relaxing all his muscles, thencame down with the weight of his entire body. Strikes such as these are ridiculously impractical in battle. Not only is it difficult to correctly aim and align the edge of the blade correctly, few are stupid enough not to move out of the way, but for the poor Ghoul¡¯s case,it didn¡¯t really have the option. The Cleaver dug halfway into its neck, probably stopping at the spine. Meanwhile, Lucious himself was off-balance after the shove. For the ninth hundred time, Lucious wished he weighed more, was bigger, and a couplefeet taller. Unable to back-step, or step under the range of the second Ghoul¡¯s claw, he had to take a hit. It lunged forward, swiping with his right hand at Lucious¡¯s neck. The only way Lucious could defend his neck was by placing his knuckles in front of the Ghoul¡¯s palm, just blew the sharp edges of its nails. Which wasn¡¯t hard, since the Ghoul¡¯s trajectory rarely changed. Lucious saw what those could do to flesh, and once again, he did not anticipate experiencing any of it. It worked, somewhat. Lucious was not able to completely stop the strike, but he was able to slow it long enough to duck under it. His left wrist slightly twisted, the impact shuddering his arm, but dealing no damage otherwise. As he ducked forward, the beast¡¯s left hand thrusted downward, instead of swiping. The smart thing realized it could not swipe when Lucious was so damn close. Fully out of position, and under the beast, Lucious¡¯s only option was to step forward again. The thrust that was aimed at his neck ricocheted off his angled shoulder blades instead,taking a bit of flesh out of Luscious but otherwise keeping his organs inside his skin. If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.
Level 9 Ghoul dealt minor cut -10 HP. Shallow Bleeding -1 HP Per Minute for 5 Minute or until Bandaged. Disease Failed.
Before the pain could register, Lucious brought his fists up with the entire force of his legs pushing him forward, twisting his upper body for each bit of force he could add. Not knowing whether the Ghoul¡¯s groin was a weak spot, Lucious opted out for sinking his fist inside its guts. The beast might have been quick and lethal, but it¡¯s skinny body and lack of muscle meant it went down just as quick. The beast hunched forward from the might of the blow, it¡¯s teeth coming dangerously close to Lucious¡¯s neck. Feeling death a few inches away, Lucious slightly pushed the beast away with his outstretched arm as he fell backward, landing on his butt. Just as the beast readied himself to pounce, one of the Chief''s men finally gained enough brain cells to rub together, only now figuring out that it was a pretty good time to kill the fucking thing. He charged forward, knife shaking in hand, stabbing the distracted beast in the neck. The 8-inch knife went 5 inches in. Not bad for an immature. It released an identical screech to the last Ghoul he had killed, though this one much more primitive. Unfortunately, TheChef''s assistant made the mistake of not retreating immediately after. The beast turned madly, left arm crashing straight into the man¡¯s chest, sending him a good twofeet back. As it turned completed its turn, however, it met face first with theChef''s signature chop. The Cleaver went in for a good four inches inside the Ghoul¡¯s skull before it stopped. The beast froze, its eyes meeting in the middle, attempting to look at the Cleaver. Its eyes unable to see the blade inside of it, it tipped its heads slightly up, still looking for the Cleaver. A still moment later, the Ghoul dropped backward.
Level 9 Ghoul Killed. 30% Experience gain.
Lucious glanced at the corpse a few feet away from him.
Level 10 Ghoul Killed. 50% Experience gain. +5 Achievement Points for winning barehanded against higher level enemies. +7.2 Battle points.
The blue screen did not appear until he was aware that the other Ghoul was dead, Lucious observed, reserving that piece of information for future use. He would leave decoding rest of the screens later after the undead monsters were...dead. As he was about to pull himself up, theChef offered him a bloody hand, purple and red blood mixed together. ¡°Not bad for a child.¡± He said, spitting red blood to the side. Considering I saved your life, sure. Regardless, Lucious allowed the man to lift him up. Lucious was probably around 130 pounds, while theChef''s muscular figure looked to be at least double that while being a foot taller than him. Bald and imposing, he looked to be in his late 30s. Even the staff working in the kitchens are handsome, Lucious thought, calming the rage in his blood. While Bloodlust allowed soldiers to decapitate their enemies easier, it was not a great state to be in when speaking. ¡°You too, Chef. With those chops, no wonder the pork tasted great.¡± TheChefgrunted though it was a grunt full of pride. There are many people like that, in the army. They communicate better through spitting and grunts than primitive old speaking. Lucious was on his feet, yet theChef did not go, looking at Lucious oddly. ¡°These hands are too rough to belong to a child.¡± An intimidating, and smart man, thisChef was. Even while a massacre was occurring, he was still level-headed enough to be skeptical about the person that saved his hind. ¡°You¡¯re one of those people, aren¡¯t you?¡± TheChef grimaced as he released his hand, bending down to wiggle the Cleaver out of the dead corpse. He apparently was not found of Lucious¡¯s lineage. Lucious nodded. ¡°There are about 20 Ghouls left, and nearly 30 of us left.¡± Lucious initial estimates were off, but after running through the mob he gained a better understanding of the situation. ¡°Some idiots tried to leave the building, and ended up asfood for the Ghouls when they were left in a corner, with no weapon to defend themselves with.¡± Each Ghoul was aslethal as a human adult, but only if the humans had a weapon, and from the looks of it, most of them didn¡¯t. TheChef nodded, gaining a rough insight of the situation. ¡°There were about 7 in there. We killed 5 of them, while they got¡­¡± TheChef shook his head, immediately ordering one of his assistants, the panic-struck one, to bring out every sharp object in the kitchen. TheChef turned back to Lucious, handing him the extra blade that was left.
Uncommon Chipped Steel Kitchen Blade Reach: 9 inches long Slash: 2 Thrust:4 Steel Strength: 5 Durability: Good Good for cutting lettuce, onions, Ghouls, and chickens.
Well at least someone has a sense of humor, Lucious smiled. This would make his life much easier. About 9 inches easier at least. TheChef nodded again ¡°Our blades are of the highest quality. We¡¯ll get by if we can get all those idiots ones of these,¡± The Chief pointed his chin Lucious¡¯s newly acquired blade. The plan was simple. Either the humans would rally, or they would all perish. ¡°But first¡­¡± The Chief¡¯s muscles bulged, the nerves on his giant forearms pulsing as he turned towards the noise ¡°...Who in the nine fucking hells is playing the piano at a time like this!¡± Luscious shivered. The piano was gradually seeping in through the sounds of violence, its soft keys increasing in weight, each human scream and monstrous screech increasing its tempo. Lucious doubted he would like this.
Seventh Sense ? leveled up!
Shit. 8. The First Blood Bath Things looked dire, quickly escalating to becoming desperate. Lucious pushed ahead of the Chef and his assistant, Deni, to engage a Ghoul. Doing it not out of bravery, but for practicality. The sooner they could get people armed, the higher their chances of survival will be. Lucious with two knives in his hands, each roughly the same size, stalked for his next victim. Picking out an unsuspecting Ghoul, Lucious darted in, making as little sound as possible while attempting to keep up with the beast¡¯s rapid movement. It was currently circling a man with a small cutting knife, and the haggard figure of the man was a clear indication of who was currently winning. The beast was much faster than the man, slowly slashing him full of holes while constantly dodging his ill-aimed strikes.
Level 6 Ghoul
Lucious strike, however, was anything but ill-aimed. He¡¯d snuck to its left corner, and just as the creature went in for a slash, Lucious did as well. It quickly gave the man a quick gash on his chest, promptly backed-stepping right into Lucious blade, impaling itself on the 9-inch blade. Lucious aimed for the heart, safely assuming that it was a weak spot.
MAJOR CRITICAL HIT 150% DAMAGE INCREASE! Damaged Central system, Major Crippled Status dealt. -50% mobility and strength. Damaged Blood Circulation. Major Bleeding Status dealt. -20% MAX HP/SECOND until healed. ASSASSINATION 100% DAMAGE INCREASE!
The blade went in clearly, piercing it¡¯s back and appearing out the front. Such an attack would have completely crippled a human, but since Ghouls are some type of undead, Lucious figured that they could probably fight even without their limbs. He plunged in the other knife after slightly pushing the creature forward, allowing the knife to pierce through the gap of its neck and shoulders.
CRITICAL HIT 100% DAMAGE INCREASE! Damaged Additional Blood Circulation. Devastating Bleeding status dealt. -40% MAX HP/SECOND
Lucious placed his foot on the creatures back and pushed forward, quickly pulling out both knives, his arms and chest getting soaked in the process. The creature fell, dead before it could touch the ground.
Level 6 Ghoul killed. 80% Experience gained. 2 Battle Points gained. 5+ Achievement points for First Flawless Assassination.
Leveled Up! Utilizing Speed, Technique, Strength, Tactics, and Will, you have gained +2 Agility, +2 Dexterity, +1 intelligence, 1+ Will. You have pleased the gods with your progression, rewarding you with additional Attribute points. +2 Dexterity.
Lucious did not know what most of these status screens meant, but he safely assumed that they were good. The Haggard Man was panting heavily, several shallow cuts weighing him down, but was otherwise healthy. There was no point in saving someone who would not be able to fight, making Lucious having to be efficient with the people who he saved.¡°T-Thank you, Chil-¡± Lucious quickly cut him off, handing him one of the knifes. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road. ¡°Not enough time to speak. Group up with the guys hacking at the Ghouls behind me¡± Lucious pointed to the Chef and Deni, their bellows and slashes rallying those around them. The Haggard Man nodded slowly, apparently not entirely comfortable with being ordered by a five-foot adolescent, but thankfully followed them correctly. Lucious circled back, not going too far out from the group. The numbers were about even now, and that was not good. These creatures were extremely fragile and are very easily Bled, but an untrained adult maleattempting to fight the beasts did not avail much. Those who charged got their bodies pierced, and those who didn¡¯t are slowly dying. Few seemed to have battle experience and were getting by with small plate knifes, but they were quickly exhausted through by the influx of Ghouls. In addition, the ratio between the men and women was equal, and the women with their large dresses were mainly useless. There were some gutsy enough to rip their dresses and batter some Ghouls themselves, but most did not. It a sad slaughter. While the Bloodlust running in his vein allowed him not to flinch upon the gore and the decreasing amount of screams, Lucious could only wonder what impact that had on these high-borns. There was something odd about how these Ghouls were acting. They were automatic, instinctual beasts, but the way things were escalating was abnormal. There were too many patterns throughout the skirmishes occurring. This was not how battles played out. Lucious took a few moments to run through the crowds, giving a Ghoul a kick there and a shallow cut over here and occasionally a good one there, but only intervening long enough when the person might prove useful. Lucious helped a young woman take down an already bloody Ghoul, and got lucky with three more interactions, piercing one Ghoul through the Heart, leaving it to bleed out as he thrusted at another one a few meters away. All he had to do was kick the last one, tipping it off balance, and the Middle Aged Man bounced on top of it, pummeling the poor beast with his fists until its skull caved in. Things were looking better, as the woman and two of the men he had assisted made their way into the Chef¡¯s group. Sadly, one of them did not move fast enough and had bumped into another Ghoul. Lucious was not there to help him this time. Lucious sighted another potential ally attempting to crush a Ghoul with a chair, but before he could make his way into the fest, his body jerked down and rolled to the right. Utterly confused at the sudden movement, Lucious did not roll with the momentum, making his right shoulder take the full impact, taking a few points of damage. Something had swiped where his body previously was. Nearly fumbling his handle on the small blade, Lucious bounced up, coming face to face with a Ghoul¡¯s thrust. With the beast not expecting such quick recovery, probably thanks to his high agility and small body, Lucious parried it¡¯s straight thrust to the left side, its nails slightly cutting into his shoulder as it scraped by. The beast¡¯s movement carried it forward, placing Lucious inches from it¡¯s chest. Clenching his teeth, Lucious met the Ghoul head on with his right chest, throwing both it and him a few inches back. With enough room to swing his knife, and it¡¯s left arm out of position from the lunge, while it¡¯s right as off balance, Lucious twisted his already angled body, both hands swinging the knife across. Big, slow, and wide movements usually got you killed in a duel, but this time the knife cleanly cut through half the creature¡¯s neck, its high pressured body spitting out an obscene amount of purple blood. Dismissing the notifications, Lucious quickly balanced himself.
Level 8 Ghoul
One Ghoul was left. Fortunately for Lucious, the Ghoul he had just cut blocked the other one¡¯s path, probably saving him from a fatal attack. Unfortunately, another Ghoul joined the fray, circling him as their friend slowly bled to death. Shorty after, Lucious received a notification of its death.
Level 6 Ghoul
Lucious cursed. Every time he came three meters close to a Ghouls, their Level would show. The higher the Level, the quicker and more vicious they became. These two, Lucious noticed, were the same Levels as the Ghouls he had previously harassed. This was no coincidence. Provingthis was the blood dripping down the back of one of the Ghouls, the one he had cut as he ran by. If they were truly mindless, instinctive beasts, as their fighting style proved, then they wouldn¡¯t have chased Lucious when there were much easier targets to hunt. There was something wrong with these creatures. Once again, things looked dire. Taking that Ghoul out there probably saved his life, though fighting two Ghouls simultaneously was not a much better alternative. In addition to that, the element of surprise was not on his side. Lucious¡¯s eyes darted towards the Chef, meeting his eyes as he took down another Ghoul. The Chef, however, frowned and turned away, his eyes lowered to the ground. Saving him was too much of a risk, probably. Typical. Lucious would probably have done the same, though that sure did not stop him from hating the guts out of that bald man. And that fucking piano was not helping. Its invasive notes tried to creep into his head, louder and louder they got, vibrating through his body. Power, untamed rage, desire, love, hate, and most of all, hunger. A savage, ever consuming, relentless hunger. It was endless and selfish. That was her song. It reached out for Lucious, offering him power, probably in exchange for a something of him. Lucious kindly declined, clenching his teeth as he Willed it away.
Status Affliction Resisted You resist, but for how long?
The Ghouls crept forward as Lucious racked his brain for ill-advised solutions. 8.5. Voting Is Good This will be one of a few more upcoming polls. I would like to know my audience since that let me write a better story, which means more followers and better ratings, which means more motivation for me, which means you get more chapters! Everybody wins! Unless you don''t like this, in which case you''ll lose. Or you don''t have an account, which is easy to fix. Make one! This website is a cool place.Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators! I have a vision going for this story, there is a goal, though what I''m wondering is what type of writing you guys enjoy the most. It''s kind of important. There is no point in spending time to write remarkably vivid scenery, actions, and descriptions if you guys aren''t interested in that. 9. The Fools First Dance Lucious swallowed deeply, sweat covering his entire back. They remained in a gridlock. The Ghouls kept attempting to circle him, one from the back and one from the front, but since Lucious did not entirely like the sound of that idea, his movements had to match the Ghouls. Repeatedly he went in for shallow cuts, stepping back, repositioning, keeping the Ghouls at his front. They were patient, knowing each moment passed as a moment in their favor. Lucious tried not to tense up, relaxing his muscles whenever they contracted at the Ghoul¡¯s movement. Tensing would only waste his energy. Time was running out. Lucious gave a quick glance to his left side, to survey the battlefield. The Chef¡¯s group had grown to a crew of 7, fighting just as many Ghouls. They were losing. The Ghoul closest to him, on his left corner, inched forward, as the other Ghoul inched to the right. Lucious tensed, smiled, then relaxed. He repositioned himself. Running was not an option, as they were faster, and inching backwards all the way to the Chef¡¯s group, as humorous as the idea sounds, would undoubtedly end up Lucious in bumping into an eager, and extremely hungry, Ghoul. Lucious peeked at the right. The group of people that attempted to escape were surprisingly holding their own at the door, using chairs and other miscellaneous objects to keep the Ghouls at bay. There were 8 of them, they were losing as well. Few people had survived around him, and their victim would fall, Lucious would probably be the next target. The Ghouls once again got closer, inching forward. Lucious nodded, that¡¯s all the information he needed to gamble. Lucious repositioned himself to the left but did not step back, allowing both the Ghoul and him to stay in striking range. The right Ghoul was not, and at that moment, Lucious once again glanced to the left. The closest Ghoul on his left side went for a thrust at that moment, it¡¯s left hand flying directly at Lucious¡¯s bare knuckles. The other Ghoul took that to step to the right, attempting to position itself for a strike. Lucious couldn¡¯t block it directly, but since the Ghoul as attacking from extreme range, it was relatively easy to parry the strike. Lowering the point of the blade down and slightly positioning it to the left, the Ghoul¡¯s thrust hit the knife¡¯s flat end at an angle. That by itself wasn¡¯t enough, as the direct force of the blow would have broken Lucious wrist, but by tensing his muscles at the moment of impact, as he simultaneously twisted his upper body to the right while adding forward momentum by stepping forward, Lucious was sufficiently able to redirect the force of the blow, allowing the Ghoul to trip past him. Sliding to its left side, Lucious brought his knife up and slashed across the Ghoul¡¯s front neck.
CRITICAL HIT 100% DAMAGE INCREASE!Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. Major Damage to Blood Circulation -20% MAX HP/SECOND.
The Knife went a good two inches in, sliding across its neck cleanly. The Ghoul¡¯s right hand instinctively attempted to cover the wound. Making use of his great Agility, Lucious took another step forward and pushed the blade at the sides of its head as he turned to face it. That thrust, however, would not penetrate the beast¡¯s skull without sufficient power behind it, and though Lucious had the agility and dexterity, he did not have the strength to penetrate a skull without using his entire body. The Ghoul, however, spun its body, attempting to swipe across with its left hand. Instead, its right eye had turned right into the pointy end of Lucious¡¯s knife, the momentum impaling it until the back of its skull.
Devastating CRITICAL HIT 200% DAMAGE INCREASE! Devastating damage to Central Nervous System -75% to All Creature Effects. Level 6 Ghoul Killed
At that moment, Lucious was very thankful for the predictable nature of these Ghouls. The swipe did impact Lucious¡¯s shoulder, but since the beast was lightweight, most of the power came from its muscles, not its weight. The swipe had given Lucious a laughable 2 damage. In addition, it had given slight momentum to the left, which he gladly took. Pulling the blade out of the creature¡¯s eye sockets, Lucious re-positioned himself it behind as it fell to the floor. Funny enough, while Lucious was cutting up one Ghoul he was also playing peek-a-boo with the second one. Throughout the four seconds it took for the exchange to happen, the right positioned Ghoul had been attempting to catch Lucious¡¯s sides. Since Lucious repeatedly moved to the left side, on the other hand, it had no success. That had been all according to the plan. Now all Lucious had to do was flick his eyes again, feigning distraction, and the stupid beasts will go in. What was not according to the plan, however, is that while the dead Ghoul was halfway to the ground, the second one had actually used it to jump across, heads first, up a good 7 feet in the air. Lucious was utterly surprised. He stood, face blank for a moment before his ingenious battle talents made him duck. The Ghoul missed Lucious by about a couple feet, landing face first into the marble floor behind him. An audible crack was heard. That, was the stupidest thing I¡¯ve ever seen. Lucious was about 5.2 feet high, with a low center of gravity. No kind of living creature needs to jump to reach his face. Pitying the sad thing, Lucious promptly put it out of its misery with a few thrusts at its unprotected back.
Level 8 Ghoul killed
You have pleased the Gods with your Entertaining Performance. Winning a battle while being outnumbered by mightier foes has rewarded you with a 300% Increase to Experience You have unlocked The Out-Numbered Perk
The Out-Numbered ? 10% Increase to all Stats and Proficiencies for each additional enemy beyond the first. Rejoice! For you have gained one of The Fools Perks. Your death shall be gloriously enthralling.
Level Up! Utilizing Speed, Technique, Tactics, and Will, you have gained +3 Agility, +3 Dexterity, +3 intelligence, 3+ Will You have pleased the Gods with your Progression, rewarding you with additional Attribute points +3 Agility.
10. One Note Of Fear The middle of the Cafe was largely vacant, except for the few foolish souls who decided to stick around in open field. They were being taught their mistake at this moment, and Lucious decided not to stick around. Lucious ran back to the Chef¡¯s now 8 knife-wielding group without engaging any further Ghouls, lest he would get cornered. That last fight was largely luck, major luck, and a side of luck to keep him alive. Lucious did not delude himself with the results. He did come out largely unscathed, but in truth, it was either that or he wouldn¡¯t at all. One mistake was all it took for the Ghouls to rip through him. Lucious did observe how different he was. Ordinarily, his technique and skills were apt, but in no means or purposes as agile or experienced enough to perform the moves he did. It did help that the Ghouls had the mental capacities of 12-year olds--a 12 year-olds that would bite your neck off, but a 12-year-old nevertheless. Still, Lucious had enough blood-boiling events for the next year and a half. He¡¯d had a substantial effect, as the few that he saved probably saved others. It was enough for now. Things did not look as hopeless as they previously did. By this point, Lucious had already figured that the Ghouls purpose was not to wipe them out. If it was, they could have easily started from the kitchen in groups, attacking from one side to the other. Without weapons, the Ghouls could have traded hits. A thrust that could go through front and back from a Ghoul was no match to the mighty fork that might go two inches in if stabbed correctly. Instead, the Ghouls apparently decided to uphold a code of honor, and for the most part only engaged on one versus one. Lucious figured that the only reason he was out-numbered was because he attacked more than one Ghoul, which was understandibly foolish. That, Lucious noticed as he got closer, was also extremely odd. The closer he got to the Chef¡¯s group, the more ravenous eyes he saw. They moved with power, with convection, throwing their entire weight with each slash and thrust. These were supposed to be middle to high-class brats, who probably had one servant for holding their dicks as they pissed, and another to wipe the shit from their asses, lest their pure hands would touch filth. But there, in front of him, were men and women huddled up in a rough circle, lashing out forward with fervor, undiverted by the ones who were missing an arm and an eye right next to them. The ones who did lose a limb did not seem to notice, the blood in their eyes knowing only to go forward, and to hit and to kill and to ruin. The Chef lead the charge, stepping forward uncontested as his Cleaver chopped whichever unfortunate limb was in range. Any Ghoul brave enough to get close was skewered by the Chef¡¯s men. Any Ghoul Skewered by the Chef¡¯s men was chopped down with an earth-shaking bellow.Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. Lucious stepped back, witnessing a Ghoul using one of his brethren as a trampoline, jumping and landing on top of some tall man, whom promptly lost half of his skull as the thing bit into it like it was swiss cheese. Lucious laughed nervously. So that¡¯s what it wanted to do that time. The Ghoul jumped off before the body hit the floor, attempting to land on its next victim but instead meeting a wide variety of pointy objects. This was not how the world worked. There was too much death around, too many screams and screeches. The dying held a face full of ecstasy and anger, and the living seemed to no longer care to live. Lucious went still. Out of the corners of his ears, he heard grotesque cackle in the distant, its pitch raising and lowering, its voice ever changing. It echoed then contorted into a twisted, fiendish giggle, then increasing in pitch, becoming an excited, happy child¡¯s laugh. He felt it inching closer. Fear came back. It coiled in tight ropes around his limbs, slowly itching itself into his skin. Lucious whipped around, trying to hear the whispers, trying to see the moving things. He saw nothing, but the oppressiveness increased. He turned away, his body straining itself. It wanted to step forward. Away. He smelled blood in the air. It found its way into his mouth, too, its metallic flavor soaking his tongue. Or was that his saliva? He swallowed, tasting nothing. Something heavy twitched, then, inside of him. He began to hear the piano again. Distance sung it far away, now, but increasing in intensity, in fervor, in desire. Dizziness followed. Following dizziness was further loss of control. It was numbness. It was a creeping cold. The Fear was in his blood now, making its way, twitching his body in ways unknown to him. His muscles tensed, relaxed, then pulsed. It was an invasive thing, those notes were. They wiggled inside, dancing gleefully. He felt them, foreign and inquisitive, poking inside of him. He Willed his body to move. It did not comply. Lucious did not want to look, did not want to remember what he did not see, but the feeling was there. She was there. The Pianist. Shaking overtook him. He Willed it away. It did not work. Terror followed his failure, panic threatening to come. He held it back. He tightened his grasp over the knife, knuckles going white. He Willed it again this time, just like he had done previously. Everything was gone. Lucious let out a breath he did not know he was holding. Sweat dripped down his forehead and his body. His trousers were wet, but all of him was glad and thankful. He felt his tongue, he had bitten it at some point. He was panting too, almost uncontrollably. He opened his eyes, too, unaware he had closed them. Everything was normal. He took a step forward. Thenits hands coiled around his heart, squeezing curiously. With a roar Lucious broke into a neurotic sprint. He screamed inaudible things. Frenzy overtook him. He ran through chairs and bodies. He fell but ran on with all his limbs, his numb hands making as much leeway as his dead feet. The oppressive air lessened but followed closely, tugging at the ends of his ears, becoming enraged, agitated at his insolence. It was angry and Lucious was sorry, very very sorry and swore he wouldn''t do it again and would do better and make it up but he did not stop. He felt it breathe down his neck with its teeth bared against his skin before he threw himself into the midst of the Ghouls and knifes and screams and flying limbs and bodies. 11. She Too, Is Human Kora felt odd. There was just something wrong. Something unnatural, something that shouldn¡¯t happen but is happening. The air weighted differently upon her fingertips, the notes she ricocheted off the piano sounding off. In tune, yet obscure. She has performed with this piano countless times over the past year, learning every knack and scratch upon its seemingly flawless surface. This piano was her partner, a friend, an ally. The only thing she dared to trust, the only thing she sang her tales to. The piano was not cooperative today. It irked her, but Kora played on. Nothing changed. Or rather, her notes not only felt wrong, but unresponsive. The sounds she wanted to come out did not come out. She shifted in her bench, trying to find a comfortable stance. The soft fabric of her pants clung snugly to her skin. Such moments were scarce, as a soldier, so she attempted to savor each moment of it. Being cozy was exactly what she was raised against. Everything had to be hard, durable, practical. Softness makes a soldier go soft, and a soft soldier is easy to break. Kora agreed, which is exactly why she gave up on becoming a soldier. Too much work, too much marching, too much cold food. Not enough sleep. If only there was some type of profession in which she could hold unfathomable power, control, fear, without having to do anything. She shook the idea off. In her current state, such a thing was impossible. Besides, conspiring against the state comes later. For now, she would indulge herself in this. It wasn¡¯t working. Kora¡¯s blood was rising, her heart beating faster, her fingers tightening. It wasn¡¯t her imagination. Some keys were not functioning. Yet they were making sound. Other keys were couple milliseconds behind, some a couple milliseconds ahead. She was playing but she was not the pianist. The tempo increased without her notice, a crescendo appearing when it shouldn¡¯t have. A pianist controls the song, and Kora was not in control. Kora did not like it when she was not in control. The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. Wrath though, was not the way to control. It was the way to ruin. It was a fire that burned itself. Kora tried to recall a different memory, from a different time. A soft one, a warm one. She let out a breath she did not know she was holding, attempting to relax her tightening muscles. She stopped watching the music sheet, for it did her no help. She imagined the campfire, in one of her many nights in the wilds. She was with her three other brothers, when they were all small and cute. It was a time when she was too. She was the youngest and smallest of them all, cheeks pink and fluffy. The smell of blood was in the air, but it was mostly of the skinned boar. It was a tough opponent, for a bunch of kids that was. Kaledin, her second oldest brother at 16 winters, was roasting the thing with a big grin on his face. He¡¯d gotten the killing blow. She was proud of him. The fire crackled, dancing when the wind whipped at her face. The trees swayed too, betraying many unknown shadows. But Kora wasn¡¯t afraid, for her Father was one of those shadows, up in the trees, watching over them. The piano listened this time. She heard the notes flow into the room, taking their place among the candles and vibrant room lights. She played the song with grace and ease. The fire cackled once again, this time their fires gave color to her oldest brother, Khastan.He was smiling buthis eyes were not. He was irritated. Angry. Kora remembered her confusion, her confusion even now. Her oldest brother was the most reliable out of them. Earnest, kind, gentle. Forgiving. He cared for his little siblings, blood or non-blood related. Yet his eyes betrayed something hard, something wicked. He looked like Father, and though Kora loved her Father, she was very, very afraid of him. She remembered how Khastan looked at her back then, how her hair stood up and how her skin turned cold. She remembered what he would do, and what he¡¯d try to do too. She found no anger in her this time. She was tired, beaten and bruised. She played that song too. Emotion swelled up in her, something she was not too familiar with. The Syliva family was not accustomed with emotion. It was a weakness that clouded the mind. Kora agreed, which is why she played the piano. To cloud her mind, to forget about the wrath and betrayal and revenge which attempted to seep through her notes. But Kora was too tired of it. Too tired of the fight she could never win. Fighting the world was too hard, too hard. All of her life she was soldered. All of her life she was taught nothing but how to take another life. Never how to give life. She was too old and stiff now. Too full of disdain to ever love a person again. They were all fragile, weak, foreign. At the end of it all, it amounted to nothing. Her sacrifices, her years, all to nowhere. Seeing her mentor in that pathetic condition broke something in her. The greatest being she¡¯d known is now stagnant. Stagnant, just like her. The song had turned somber, quiet, beaten. Tired. Her hands slowed, the notes slowly dwindling, their life not sustaining any longer. Nothing made her heart beat. Slowly, everything became pointless. Empty. Vacant. Colorless. Despire, Kora knew, would soon fill in that void. Kora flinched. There was a distortion. She looked up with dull eyes, meeting face to face with a bunch of blue colored screens. Her heart beat once, twice, and thrice. 12. Something Wicked Kora felt a consuming desire to play the piano. The first of many screams began but all Kora could think of was to make sound. A vibrant, powerful, haunting sound. Her fingers were itching for it, her entire body fidgeting with the anticipation of touching the keys, to feel them sink under her touch, to create. She swallowed deeply, trying to clear her head to no avail. She resisted, hard and long. Kora loved the piano, but Kora was also stubborn. She would not be controlled. She was the controller. Nothing would compel her to do anything, even if that something was into everything she ever wanted, condensed into this singular moment of her existence. Her muscles bulged under the pressure. She attempted to stand up, to turn away from the piano, but her legs refused. Neither her eyes nor her neck would turn away from the keys. She could hear it calling out to her. To embrace her. It would make her alive again. Was that not what she so sorely desired? Life? Purpose? It called to her, its whispers spinning her tales. It would fill her up with desire. It would make her want to live again. It would return her strength. All she had to do was to play it like it was meant to be played. To release every bent up and twisted thing of hers into it, and to create it. But she would not be a slave to her aspirations. She would not lose herself. Yet her fingers moved forward, against the horror of her face, and rested upon the smooth keynotes. It sent a numbing jolt throughout Kora¡¯s body, dimming her mind slightly. That is when her teeth bit into her tongue, momentarily breaking her out of the spell. Her left hand pranced towards her cane, only for it to completely freeze in its place, inches away from her glorified weapon. She Willed her hands to move. The pressure she met with told her she would have better luck trying to push the ground away. She felt something behind her. A purple mist started to materialize, out of it was a soft and skinny hand. It held her wrist like the weight of a mountain. From more mist, the rest of it came. The Thing¡¯s skin was smooth, it¡¯s fingertips laid softly inside her palm. It was also extremely cold. Small bits of frost forked from where the Thing touched. A shiver went down her neck as she felt it creep closer to her. The thing rested its lips against Kora¡¯s neck, its touch ignoring the fabric, laying directly on top of Kora¡¯s skin. The Thing¡¯s soft chest snugged itself against her back. The Thing was a female. Kora felt it smile. Kora felt her Fear raising up. ¡°You resist my gift,¡± It whispered, gently. Rotten flesh, spoiled food, flowers, and iron, the smell was ever changing. Her voice was ageless. Its tone varying as if each syllable was spoken by ten different souls, all slightly amused.Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more. Kora said nothing, whether out of Fear or Wisdom that remains unknown. Its fingertips slid across Kora¡¯s hand, its touch so cold it burned. It interlocked its fingers with Kora¡¯s left, resting both upon the piano''s keys. The piano¡¯s voice no longer burned inside her mind. Fear had replaced that. An intimate and primal Fear. Like the frost, it crept into her. Like the voice that spoke to her. ¡°Why?¡± The Thing asked Kora with raised eyebrows. Black hair and purple skin, Kora saw out of the corners of her eyes, but only if she focused. Otherwise, the Thing kept phasing out of existence, repeatedly attempting to elude her sight. It was a Thing. That Thing¡¯s existence is not human. She felt its embrace tighten, its right arm now looping around and resting on her waist. It wanted an answer. So Kora answered, ¡°I refuse to be controlled.¡± ¡°You live, pursue joy, consume, reproduce, and perish.¡± The Thing replied, without a pause, ¡°How does my Gift differ?¡± ¡°Those desires are mine. I¡¯m controlling myself.¡± ¡° You control yourself the same way a puppet with strings does. ¡° Kora did not follow. The Thing went on. ¡°The puppet owns its strings like you own your desires. The strings then move by the Artist¡¯s desires, my desires.¡± ¡°No. That is called being manipulated. I was born with the desire to live and eat, and not because some Thing wanted me to.¡± Kora replied with more fervor in her voice than she believed. Yelling at an unknown entity was not a wise thing to do. The Thing took no heed to the venom in Kora¡¯s voice. It did not assume its significance. ¡°Then you are controlled by your body.¡± ¡°My. Body.¡± This Thing was not getting it, Kora internally screamed. The Thing paused. Not just speaking, but completely paused its entire movement. It froze in place, not breathing. Kora noticed the absence of a heartbeat. The Thing unpaused. ¡°Why do you wear clothes?¡± ¡°E-eh?¡± Was Kora¡¯s sharp-witted response. ¡°Fabric. You have fabric covering your body.¡± The Thing replied, its interest piqued even further, the whispers raising. ¡°B-because I want to?¡± ¡°Would you be able to not wear clothes, if you did not want to?¡± The Thing asked. ¡°Yes,¡± Kora answered. It paused again, this time for a shorter time before reformatting her question. ¡°Are you allowed to forgo wearing clothes, in public, if you did not wish to?¡± Kora could, but only if she also wanted to be called a harlot, imprisoned, raped, and then stoned. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t be able to, but that doesn¡¯t mean I would ever want to.¡± Kora felt her reins losing. This Thing was odd. It was a childlike presence. She could not follow its thinking process. ¡°Why wouldn¡¯t you want to?¡± It did not relent. ¡°Because I would be ashamed of myself,¡± Kora answered firmly. As long as she could return the argument to what she wants, then she would win the argument. Kora is stubborn. She would not be proven wrong. ¡°So,¡± The Thing¡¯s lips flew upwards, speaking its echoing whispers directly into her ears ¡°If their view of your nude body shames you, then you are being controlled by their desires of you maintaining clothes.¡± This time, it did not pause. It did not negotiate. The Thing took hold of Kora¡¯s other hand, and led it towards the piano. Kora felt cheated. She tried to scream but her voice would not come out. The Thing pushed down upon her fingers, the keys sinking in with glee. The piano replied. Once, twice, and thrice, Kora felt her mind slipping. 13. The Sheep Argento whimpered. Hell had broken loose just as he had attempted to break out the front door. It was then when he and his fellow men and women realized that their tactical retreat had failed horrendously. Twenty bodies littered the ground, and twenty more would surely follow, Argento noticed. In more than one case, he¡¯d seen one of those brave souls fighting it out, only to trip on the body of a different brave man¡¯s corpse. What followed had already made Argento empty his stomach--twice. They were all going to die. Few had proper weapons, and even fewer had the ability to counter these monsters assault with just forks and spoons. Panic had consumed them all. They did not defend themselves efficiently, choosing to dodge and flee instead of fighting back. These men and women chose to fight amongst themselves, clawing away as far as possible, attempting to prolong their life by another few seconds than to risk death at that moment. Those who did fight did so with fear instilled into their bones. Their movements were tense, weak, and irrational. In truth, if each man and women fought with full intention to kill the enemy, there would be a chance to survive, Argento thought as he watched from the backlines. That was not going to happen. Anyone who fought took the risk of dying immediately, rather than later. Argento heard the piano then, and so did everyone else, it seemed. The First Note was a powerful, heavy low-pitched key. It penetrated through every human eardrum. It was a calling. The Second Note was a high shriek. That was a warning. The Third Note started low and quiet. It began like a hundred tiny inaudible whispers. Fleeting at first, but gradually accumulating in power, bluntly ignoring how the instrument originally produced its voice. Then the song began.Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. The Notes came and left, their tempo seemingly matching each Ghoul strike and Human Counter Strike. The screams continued, and the Ghoul¡¯s assault was undeflected, yet the piano still played. Through the clutter, ripping of flesh and bone, and maniacal battle cries, the piano followed, its movement subtle. A higher Note here, a fast Note there. Nothing too impactful at first. But then it blended with the scenery. Argento stared in awe, attempting to observe the phenomenon. A sturdy man, 6-foot man was pummeling a Ghoul. Three quick punches were dealt to the face, then the man quickly stepped back, barely avoiding a backhanded slash from the battered Ghoul. As that exchange had occurred, Argento noticed the piano had mirrored it, sounding three quarter, low base Notes, followed by a much quicker and higher fleeting eighth Note. Immediately after, however, the piano sounded a heavy whole Note, half a second before the man counter attacked with a heavy punch, effectively knocking back the Ghoul a couple feet backward and into the ground. The man pounced on the fallen From his decent set of knowledge concerning music, Argento knew that there were whole Notes, quarter Notes, which were a quarter of the whole Note, and eighth Notes, which were an eighth of a whole Note. Sixteenth Notes followed the same pattern, and although there were even quicker Notes, they were seldom used. Yet the performance in front of Argento was anything but that. While a whole note lasted approximately four seconds, and a quarter note one-fourth of that, the time allocated to each was different. What this meant, was that Argento was able to hear a Whole Note that lasted four seconds in the span of one second. Argento did not understand the significance of such a reality-bending technique, but attempting to keep track of its movements was becoming increasingly difficult. It kept attempting to slip out of his conscious, blending in with his thoughts. The piano, Argento realized apprehensively, was playing in his mind. He gulped heavily, a low-based Note promptly following it. That spooked him even further, adding more nervous sweat and shaking to his already haggard body. He shook his head. His sad state was not a song he wanted to hear. To each movement, there was a Note. To each normal strike was a medium Note, and to each physical impact a low-pitched one. Dodging sounded a quick eighth note. Though when Argento focused his senses on the small movements, a tilt there or the further clenching of fists here, a hundred inaudible Notes whispered to Argento.
Expert Musical Hearing Evolved into Intermediate Magical Hearing
That made Argento finally release the whimpers he was withholding. The piss and tears were already there, way before his weeps made their way out. He had fallen backward in his freight. To each different interaction, to each different plate which scatters against the ground, there was a Note. Argento could hear it. It was there: Thousand of Notes occurring simultaneously, existing both from the origins of the piano and origins of each object his senses. He saw and heard them, yet he could not comprehendtheir form. His mind would not register what his senses were feeding him. A chair would turn into tables, into a multitude of triangular heads turning inwards onto themselves, and expanding into shapes and movements Argento could not describe. To each movement, was a sound which followed it, and with eachslighter movement, the plains flipped, switched, turned, and altered upon it. Argento heaved what was left of his stomach for the third time that day. 14. How The Wicked Play Kora was in ecstasy. Pure, unfiltered, radical bliss that filled her every being, the way not even the strongest drugs would, the way sex never could. Her body danced along her crazed tune, short hair flying wildly as she pounded the keys. She swung her head ¡®round and ¡®round, white teeth showing as she laughed maniacally. How low she had fallen, and yet how long had she waited for this, Kora wondered in the back of her mind. An afterthought really, for the Song burned in her blood. She felt its fires consume her, eagerly and brutally, every tip of her cold skin. She felt it cleanse away all the filth that had been rotting inside her. She felt it give her life and power, long ago taken from her. Retired muscles quivered back to life. Her calves, quads, back, shoulder, chest, and abs all burned with a ferocity befitting the nasty things she would soon do with them. Soon. Soon. Soon. Her anticipation grew. Soon, her revenge fantasies should come true. Soon, she will dance blew the wisps of blades. Soon, shall she spill rich blood. Never again. Never would she ever relinquish control of the power to dominate. How foolish she had been, to forget the joy of supremacy, of absolute, uncontrolled, unfathomable control. She was not insignificant, not anymore. She was no political tool nor was she a weapon. The world danced to her Tune now, to her whims and desires and angers. And dance they did. They were the tools and weapons. Look of how they dance, their limbs flying with reckless abandon. Observe, Kora, observe how they dance for your pleasure, her mind bellowed. Look how they bleed, look how they fall and scream. It¡¯s all for you. Kora did not need to look. Whatever her Notes touched she could observe. The sensation of a Ghoul¡¯s claws sinking into soft flesh, the knife cutting through rot and bone, the furniture breaking under the force many types of corpses, living and dead, she could observe them all. All she had to do, was listen to it. She gave them what they desired. She Sang them a tale of their immortality, of their impeccable value in this world. She assured them that Death would come only to the men and women near them, just never them. Push on, my children, push on. Glory awaits. Her fingers moved with Dexterity long forgotten to her body. Time moved wildly for Kora. It was slower, longer, yet faster. One minute for a mortal was an hour spent in fifteen minutes for Kora. Time moved quickly, faster than it should have, yet covering a distance which was not there. A few fearless blue Screens attempted to distract her, earning a whipping from her Notes instead. At some point, she felt them become edge away. The more Kora gave of herself the further the screens cowered. As deranged as Kora was, consciousness was still hers. She gave herself, but not all of it. This Song was a fickle thing. It wanted to be resistance, wanted to push against forces and to dominate it. Some Songs you can¡¯t give all of yourself to, or they¡¯ll find no reason to keep you. She wanted to be consumed but not devoured. To feel insanity but not to become it. That was fine, desirable even. It wouldn¡¯t feel this good, otherwise. Kora began to worry. She could feel the Song ending, the bloodshed soon coming to an end. It whispered for its death. A special death. The Song desired to burn with ferocity beyond its mortal limits. It wanted to go out with a bang. At first, Kora had chosen the Chopper, a giant of a man chopping Ghoul limbs left and right. She endowed him with her power, feeding him bliss one Chop at a time. He was a strong man, firm, resolute, merciless. He controlled his fears well, but not well enough. His resistance proved futile. The Chopper was a man who was as fearless as he was fearful. He masked his insecurities and primitive desires behind a wall of sturdy muscles and a cold heart. He cared only for his meager self, for his petty ego required all of his attention. Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. This was a man she could control. With each Chop, she granted him a boon, a delight, a spice in his heart. Power surged in his wild swings, a nauseating grin slowly creeping upon his skin. But his Song was too simple, too blunt. Inconsequential. He was a man who desired attention, prestige, power, only for the reason of self-indulgence. He wanted the world to spin around his bellows. Much like Kora herself, though the world did spin to her whispers. Hers was no trifling fantasy, and so she soon grew dulled with his repetitious nature. The Song looked elsewhere, leaving him disappointed and desperate. The Chopper tried to hold on to his euphoria, to claw at its slippery forms to no avail, for though Kora was satisfied with his performance, she wanted more. Something more complex, more indulging. She looked for the little one that Resisted her initial Song. His was a Dance her Notes were unable to mold, initially. Now, however, that she had given all but her most inner selves to the Song, she would be able to dominate his odd and sneaky Soul. Notes bounced off screams and steel and tears, the Song stalking for its next Dancer. He would not escape them. He heard the Notes, and the Notes heard him. How utterly adorable, Kora heard herself say. Observe how he fidgets in place, looking for things he can not see, for beings he can not comprehend. See how he struggles, see how futile it is. Struggle he did. Kora felt his Will, however meager, snap back at her with all its might. Brave. Or was it desperate? Kora could not Name him, not yet. She needed more of him. Her Notes tried to seduce him, whispers of power and revenge and evils to accomplish. He was not convinced. Terror reduced him. Kora stopped her movement abruptly, her fingers no longer playing the piano. Silence too can be loud. Kora frowned. She wanted control, not destruction. She called calmness to herself. She was panting roughly, hair already washed wet with sweat. It stuck to her face, giving her a haggard look. She blew at the few daring strands that hindered her eyes. Kora changed her Tune. First in her heart, then in her fingers. A devious, cunning thing she would soon become. If she can not get him to open the Gates for her, then she¡¯ll just have to find another way in. Under or above, a road that he does not know exists. Slippery and invasive, Kora played Notes which no mortal can hear, sounds which no human ear can not fathom. Weightless, light, beyond inaudible. That was her Tune. In his moment of repose, Kora slipped beyond his flimsy barriers. Slowly, her Notes reached deep inside of him, unnoticed, coiling their invisible strings upon his heart. Wrath, her old friend, had budded comfortably in his heart, though it was wholly overshadowed by the sheer amount of Terror in it. Vigilance was there, too, betraying a sturdy mind. It hid what Kora wanted to see. Further in, she could a hint of his Desires, of his delusions and fantasies. She needed more. Just a bit. Her coils grasped, a little bit firmer, for barely a fraction of a second. It was a minuscule difference, and in that, she saw Shame. Weakness. Loneliness. His was overspent, barely stitched together. Fractures were evident. It was hurt. It wanted rest. It wanted to forget. Forget what? Before Kora could dwell deeper in, the boy hurled himself away. Her grasp on him snapped shut, the Gates shutting close. He ran away like a madman. Rage filled Kora. Her prey was escaping her. For the second time. The audacity of that child. This time, there will be no more kindness. She''ll pry his heart open. Kora released the chains upon her Notes. She would hound him down. Mine, mine, mine, the voices echoed. 15. Aftermath Lucious rested his back against the wall, blood slowly seeping out of him. Covering his wounds should have taken precedence, but his mind no longer wanted to move. It was a tired, old thing. His hands fell limp beside him, covered with crusting blood. Several blue screens crowded his vision. Lucious did not possess the mind to ignore them any longer.
You have been rewarded favorably by the Gods for surviving the First Phase with an above average performance. Congratulations, you are now considered to be better than filth. The Gods of Chaos look approvingly upon your slaughter. You have earned their Favor. +10 A, +30 B. Total First Phase accumulation: 20A 39.2 B
Level Up +1 Strength, 1+ Dexterity, +2 Agility, + 3 Will
Level Up +2 Strength, +2 Dexterity, +2 Agility, + 1 Endurance, +1 Constitution, -1 Wisdom
Perk Ascended: Battle Lolie (UC) > Murderous Lolie ? Tiny, but deadly! Increase Total Mobility by 10%>20% Increase Total Offensive Effects by 10% +1 Strength +1 Dexterity +1 Consitution +1 > +3 Charisma +3 > +5 Agility OverEncumbered threshold decreased by 25%.
Intermediate Dodge Ascended to Advanced Dodge Their bones will break before they could touch you Increase Melee AttacksDodgechanceby34% Increase Range Attacks Dodgechance by 55%
Skill Gained: Accumulative Dodge For each successiveDodge, Total Dodge Mobility will increase by 5% to a maximum of 50%. Being Damaged, or not Dodging within the next five seconds of the last Dodge will reset the Effects
Intermediate Tenacity Ascended to Advanced Tenacity Your muscles will melt and your bones will crumble, but will you even notice? STM regeneration increased by 25% > 35% Crowd Control effects on you are reduced by15% > 25% Debuff for Minor STM Break reduced by 15% > 25% Debuff for Intermediate STM Break reduced by 50% Mind Defense increased by 15% > 30%.
Skill gained: Limit Break ? Your limits are removed, ever so slightly 10% bypass of limits.
Path Progress Advanced: Knife and Fork 0/50 > 50/50 B 0/50 > 25/50 A
Path Progress Ascended: The Endurer (UC) > The Unkillable ? 25/50 A, 50/50 B. The world will burn, storms will ravage skies, the oceans will swallow kingdoms, and alive you will emerge Cockroach.
Debuff: Intermediate STM Break -80% ToHP and STM Regenration (+40%) -80% To All Effects (+40%)A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. Time until Debuff Devolution: 11 Hours (-6 Hours)
General Information Attributes
Level 9 Name Value Name Value
Species Human Strength 11 (+1) Constitution 12 (+1)
Class N/A Dexterity 19 (+1) Charisma 7(+2)
Profession N/A Agility 27(+5)
Age 21 Endurance 17 (+1)
HP 32/143 (.57/Hour) Intelligence 17 (+1)
STM 10/198 (+1.77/sec) Wisdom 7 (+1)
Overall STM 310/968 (+1.88/sec) Will 22 (+6)
A typhoon swirled in front of him, words, numbers, and tables abundantly blocked everything but the wretched blueness of this magic. Numbly, Lucious went through each line, his distaste for the notifications ever increasing. Most of it was jargon Lucious did not understand. What he did understand, however, was that he could now do things he could not do before. He¡¯d gotten more capable over that fight as well. Not just stronger, but more aware and conscious of his surroundings. It was as if he could now flex a new muscle in his body. He dismissed the screens. It was just the gods playing with their food again.There would be time for that later. If there was a later. First, he had to take off the bloody rags he was wearing. The sooner he would change his clothes, the less chance there was of him getting an infection. There were many diseases out there, and none would bode well for Lucious in that condition. They smelled bad too, as he had sullied himself. It was shameful, but not the first time, and probably not the last. He would live and forget. He¡¯d gotten just a many, many bad cuts, but surprisingly, nothing fatal considering how utterly stupid Lucious was in throwing himself into that dogfight. Pure luck kept him alive. Those crazed men and women were as dangerous as the Ghouls were. A shiver shook him to the soul. Emotion came back to his face. Nothing like being scared witless to wake a tired body up. He washed away the memories of the music. They would haunt him later, anyway. He reckoned that this was just the start of things. Bad things would soon happen. Worst things. Things he would have to clutch his teeth and live through. His only consolation was that he wasn¡¯t alone in his despair. That was good. Let them suffer as he has. All around him men and women were groaning in agony, their bodies having given up on them as well. And those were the lucky ones. The few of them anyway. The only people who weren¡¯t crying were dead. ...Other than the Chef. And that chubby bastard which brought him here. One old lady too. And that cunt who was playing the piano. Now that few things were left intact, Lucious could see her, just as fucked up as the rest of them. Or at least, he hoped she was. All Lucious could see was her head against the piano, unmoving. Unconscious, hopefully. Dead would be even better, though Lucious knew far too much to be optimistic in life anymore. His life anyway. Things always seem to go batshit crazy when Lucious is in the picture. Or maybe because he is surviving so much that his life seems especially unlucky. If he died on his first encounter with tragedy, that wouldn¡¯t be lucky either, would it? Lucious grimaced. This trail of thought never leads anywhere good. He tried to get, mustering all the little power he didn¡¯t have. His hands pushed against the ground too, making his life slightly easier. With a few groans and curses, Lucious had brought himself halfway up, hands supporting him against the wall, before he fretted and fell forward. Two burly hands caught him by the shoulders. Lucious lifted his head up, meeting eyes with the Chef. ¡°Finally decided to give me a hand, ay?¡± Lucious smiled. An obnoxious, ugly smile. It was a wonder how well he could twist his childish face. ¡°I had my hands full, raver¡± The Chef replied, distaste in his tone. He wasn¡¯t the same. The big man was tired. He was changed. They all were. The haughty look that he first gave Lucious was not there. He was still a bigoted bastard, but a haughty, bigoted bastard he no longer was. Progress. ¡°Bloody hands, these.¡± Lucious clutched his teeth, slapping away the Chef¡¯s hands. Or at least he tried to. They were too damn heavy to move, and Lucious had no strength in him. The Chef held on, his face hardening, as well as his clutches on Lucious¡¯s punny shoulders. Oddly enough, and wholly irrelevant to current circumstances, Lucious was suddenly reminded of the sound crushed bones make. The numbness though was on his side now. There was no fear. Annoyance, fatigue, gloom, but not fear. He did not want to die, but he did not want to live. He wouldn¡¯t have minded being put out of his misery. The Chef let his hands drop to his waist, spitting to the side. ¡°Helping you back there might have killed us all, and you know it.¡± ¡°Yes, just like I did when you were dwindling into your own, miserable, fucking death. Twice¡± Lucious spit too, more out of necessity than choice. It was just the right thing to do. ¡°Horseshit! The first time you came for the weapons, and the second you came as a crazed monster. I saw you cut the throat of one our own.¡± ¡°He swung at me. Besides, I am a raver, remember?¡± ¡°He almost GRAZED you? That¡¯s why you killed the poor boy?¡± Lucious Chuckled ¡°Poor boy? Poor boy? And here I thought you only cared about your own hide.¡± Was this a good time to spit? No, probably not. ¡°Intentional or not, I saved your regrettable life twice. That¡¯s two favors, just in case your delusion mind is preventing you from facing the fact that you got saved by a lonely, sad, half-raver, twice, in the same fucking hour.¡± Lucious walked, or more like limped, past him. That¡¯s the thing about them proud bastards, being indebted to someone who is of a lower kind irks the- Lucious¡¯s right foot tripped on something, sending him stumbling for a couple painful steps, his sore legs taking the brunt of it. Laughter bellowed from behind him. That damn Chef. So much for the tough act. His foot had nearly gone into one of the holes those Ghouls came out from. Even from their graves, these Ghouls are still trying to ruin his day. This time, Lucious did spit. Into the hole, hoping it would land in front of whatever God is messing with them this time. Surviving had made Lucious feel very smug about himself. Still feeling pleased about getting away with his life, Lucious went to get into a better garb. Sadly, all of his options had substantial holes stuck through them. It took a bit of time, but he finally found a shirt from some guy of whose neck was mostly missing, and a leather coat from someone whose head was half eaten. Lucious finally threw up his lunch, but in return, he now had new clothes, albeit a couple sizes too big. He kept his pants, but all of his nasty shirts were traded. His new coat was...flashy. Some type of scarce alligator leather robe it seemed. It was probably meant to go down to right below the waist, but for Lucious, it went all the way down to his ankles. Not his type of fashion, but sadly, beggars can¡¯t be choosers. Lucious was feeling good about himself. He had, of course, patched himself up with the tablecloth, so he was no longer bleeding out his precious blood. He had also resupplied himself with a couple, cleaner, steel knives, which would no doubt sell for a hefty price if needed. Food too in his pockets, for a midnight snack. That¡¯s when he turned around, and saw her, just a few meters away from him. Their eyes met. Her piercing, horrible eyes. It was then, for the hundredth time, did Lucious just realize how naked, small, punny he was. He felt his bones creak against the weight of her gaze. She was searching for something. A reaction, a flinch, an oddity. But alas, there was nothing to see in Lucious. His face kept still, devoid of any wrinkles and expressions. She dismissed him with a frown, going off to search, almost desperately, among the dead for her something. Lucious heaved, his eyes becoming wet. Weakness seeped out of his body as the shaking went through him. For the first time, panic had saved him. The moment his eyes met her his body had frozen. A deer, Lucious was like a deer to that walking calamity.
Skill Progressed: Seventh Sense ? into Intermediate Seventh Sense ? What your mind won¡¯t do, your body will.
Thank you, really. I love blue. I''ve always loved blue. Blue is my favorite color. All hail the color blue. Lucious swallowed, keeping his arms close to his knifes as he made his way out of the cafe. 16. The Spreading Rot Scratching his head in annoyance, Lucious kept surveying the city blocks. It was a mess, really. Bodies littered the streets, a few limbs here a few heads there. Blood of all colors sprayed the stone blocks Lucious walked on, signs of a gruesome battle everywhere his wary eyes rested. What a one-sided massacre. Those at the cafe had it easier, it seemed. Still, this was ridiculously grim, to the ludicrous level. The smell of corpses filled the air, ravens, and flies already feasting upon the never-ending pile of cold flesh. It was also precarious how the battle inside and outside the streets concluded at the same instance. There were, oddly enough, many survivors as Lucious walked by. All slumped, deranged, and sobbing, but still too many survivors. If those feral Ghouls had won the battle, and it sure hell seems like it, then everyone should be dead. Yet that was not the case. Not wanting to sound like a senile man, Lucious tried to deny the Gods touch in this, but it was all too conspicuous. Gods loved their symbols; dove of peace, raven of death. In this case, this was a bath, a rebirth of sorts, Lucious suspected. Everyone was dyed in blood, purple and red, as well as the streets and buildings. The sky was unnaturally grim too, as if it was heeding the Gods call for a dark age to commence. As Lucious was walking aimlessly, he grew further confidence in his suspicion. They were purposely kept alive, some of them at least. And why would the Gods do that, if they did not have future plans in mind? Plans within plans within plans, that¡¯s how it¡¯s always is. That¡¯s how it should be. Get a grip on yourself. The question was, however, was what to do? If today was the First Phase, then when is the next? Glancing around him, Lucious could tell it wasn¡¯t anytime soon. Too many people were beaten to exhaustion. A similar experience will break them--if not their bodies, then it will be their minds. There will be rest, a couple days at least. Hesitantly, Lucious recalled the image of his Status Screen. Lo and behold, it appeared, in all of its glory.
General Information Attributes
Level 9 Name Value Name Value
Species Human Strength 11 (+1) Constitution 12 (+1)
Class N/A Dexterity 19 (+1) Charisma 7(+2)
Profession N/A Agility 27(+5)Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
Age 21 Endurance 17 (+1)
HP 32/143 (.57/Hour) Intelligence 17 (+1)
STM 120/198 (+1.77/sec) Wisdom 7 (+1)
Overall STM 310/968 (+1.88/sec)
At this time, Lucious could safely assume that these numbers quantified his abilities. A Charisma rating of 9 made that painfully obvious. His Wisdom was not flattering, either, which he safely assumed originated from the choice of becoming a soldier. The answer was--probably-- within the regeneration of his Health Points (HP). The next Phase should be after it¡¯s full recovery, and the current would take about 7 days. Recalling the STM Break Debuff, however, he knew that that process would accelerate by 40% after 6 more hours. After that, it would take about half a week for a full recovery, which is a ridiculously good rate. His Stamina regeneration though was utterly stupendous. With a recovery of about 2 a second, Lucious would basically have to rest only a 120 seconds for a full recovery. It was at this point that Lucious¡¯s skepticism nudged him in the back. That was too good. Endurance worked in two ways, short and long. It takes short endurance to maintain a sprint, and long endurance to repeatedly sprint, which brings Lucious to his next point: Overall STM. That was probably his long endurance. His body won¡¯t recover after that, as his STM probably leeches off of it in a 1 to 1 ratio. That made sense. These numbers have no doubt granted Lucious extra power, but its limits were evident. He was human, but with leeways. Studying the rest of his attributes, Lucious deduced that his Constitution was multiplied by a value of 10, and that granted him his HP. The same goes for his Endurance, which should add up with the rest of his ¡°Perks¡± and ¡°Skills.¡± The equations used behind his Regeneration, however, was lost on him. The rest of the attributes were self-explanatory, though Lucious had no idea how good they were, compared to the rest of the populace. With a rough estimate, Lucious figured that his Strength was on the low side, while his Agility was on the very high side. Math, we have a love-hate relationship, don''t we? Finally pleased his parent¡¯s expensive tutoring was paying off, Lucious dismissed the Screen. Even though his STM was recovering at a ridiculous rate, his muscles were still sore and his body still battered. He walked with a limp, putting the majority of his weight on his left side. He needed rest, and he needed it fast. His wounds could open up anytime, and he had little to no faith in his rough bandage work. Regret welled up in his mind, jabbing at the back of his head. He should have taken more time before putting himself in the open, like this, with a very flashy coat that will no doubt fetch an ice price. Pulling out one of the knives shooed off any attempts. He was in no condition to fight, and fight he might have to. The city was in chaos, hollow-eyed men and women coming out to the streets, gaping at the horror their city has faced. In the manner of less than 15 short minutes, the world had turned on its head. Already, the less fortunate were looting the more fortunate stores. Lucious was currently in the Second-District, a much improvement from the Third-District, but that by no means did it allude to an easy life. Lucious noticed a slightly tall man had entered a jewelry store that four others had already entered. After a quick racket, only one came out, with extra red on his hands. It was amazing, how quickly it began. Seeing that had further convinced Lucious to make haste. Thus, he limped with extra speed. Everyone knew that few people survived the Gods games, and if an entire city has fallen to their board, then no doubt citizens would cease thinking of the long run, and only think of the current run. It meant fires would rage, murder will be rampant, and any woman without an especially pointy knife will be raped. Such is the Gods horror, their very presence brings corruption to life. Lucious, in his current haggard condition, could not take any of that. His hope was that order would quickly be restored, though that had meant Lucious had to trust his government, which the thought of quickly cracked him up, bringing inwards laughter to his dry lungs. A small room to sleep and defend himself, if needed, is what Lucious kept looking for. Most of the law enforcement would probably be alive, as these Ghouls were no challenge to a trained soldier. The disorder and lack of communication though would probably ensue panic among the ranks and hinder the reaction armies reaction time, unless expertly handled of course, which Lucious assumed would happen. The commanders and captains generally knew what they were doing. The law enforcement, however, would not be able to contain revolts of any kind. Lucious had seen more than one, and in all instances the law enforcement was there to only protect the richest citizens until the military reached. A military base was just a couple hours away by horseback, which should keep the worst from happening. The problem, however, laid in the First Phase¡¯s nature. It wasn¡¯t there to completely exterminate them, but rather to sort them out. A typical citizen is not expected to defend himself against Ghouls, so the difficulty curve should be quite low. The test here, Lucious once again, assumed, was that it wasn¡¯t just whether you were able to fight, but whether you were able to survive. The point is, and as his tutor once said, You can not test a shark¡¯s worth by its ability to climb a tree, Kayn. Those we consider weak, are the same. Their Strength lies elsewhere, you just have to find it. Which brought Lucious to the final point: How difficult would the First Phase be, for those whom are bred and molded for utter destruction? 17. The Cries A head flew past the Captain¡¯s shoulder, missing him by a few inches. The headless body followed soon after, sending one of his soldiers flying. The horror of it was not lost upon the Captain. Vicious things, these monsters are. The Captain had previously fought beasts for; oversized hounds, giant birds, the insectoids even, but none were as malicious as these things were. Those Ghouls fought not for their survival, but only for death. Their death, and his death. Their sole desire was to bring horror upon its enemies, and that it did. These were no living things, which the Captain assumed should have been clear enough, with their rotting bodies and all. Horror, however, was not new to the Captain. He was a far cry from being unfazed, yet it not enough to prevent him from carving up a path of rot and destruction, the way he had always done. His shield had already crushed countless bones, his longsword wholly dyed in purple, yet they kept coming. Different from the pesky little things that first appeared, these Ghouls were the size of adults, naked rotting bodies armored with sturdy muscles and powerful movement. Yet not powerful, nor nearly enough durable, to survive the inevitable strikes of the Captain¡¯s full might. With each slash a beast fell. Chaos brewed around him, his shorthanded company slowly dwindling. The first wave had already decimated their command structure, taking out at least half of the First Company. Those who had fallen were probably the weakest--or the unluckiest-- yet the moral of losing half of the company grinded upon his men''s consciousness. Seeing one of his soldiers attempt to escape the dogfight by leaving the cover of his allies gave the Captain a dour reminder. This was the First Company¡¯s fast battle, and they would soon lose it if the tides did not change. The soldiers overwhelmed adult Ghouls in numbers, though every adult Ghoul was accompanied a few pesky ones. Easy to kill, yet just as easy to be killed by them. The Captain¡¯s company fought it out using the covers of their barracks, each previously holding 60 men and women. Wise infrastructural planning built these two next to each other, allowing for bandage tactics such as this. This was the first place the Captain went to as the little devils appeared. He¡¯d shed some bled on his way, gathering a platoons amount of men, and had charged right into the typhoon of rustling bodies. Before the Captain could sufficiently gather his soldiers into something resembling a Company the next wave of undead had already reached them. The feeble line did not hold, and thus another dogfight emerged.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road. The Captain was at a loss. With his platoon of men he had chosen to help the struggling half of his company, preventing their complete obliteration. Yet in doing so, he had also prevented the opportunity to rally the better half of his troops into cohesion. He had chosen preservation over victory. The Captain could feel the rust muddy his mind. He had grown soft, without ever noticing it. Even now, just as he slashed and hacked, blocked and dodged, feinted and manipulated his foes into a dance of art and deception, his had blood refused to enrage. It stayed a cold, fickle thing. There was no battle lust, no desire to plunge his enemies into ashes; only a prickling sense of fatigue. Insignificance weighed on the Captain''s blade. Gradually they were whittled down. They fell like droplets to the Ghoul¡¯s claws, leaving only the tired and the hollow-eyed at the end of their onslaught. Night had fallen without the Captain''s notice, the last cries of battle echoing in the back of his mind. All was still. He could hear his panting, could see the destruction around him, all to naught. Most of his First Company, a haggard bunch from the beginning, lay dead and unmoving. Only a quarter was left standing, but a portion of that will succumb to their wounds anyway. Sobs and whimpers stabbed at his back. He felt the blame and guilt welling up inside him. Here, so soon? Something nudged in the pile of bodies, off to the Captain¡¯s far right. Something huge. It rose with a savage growl, bodies sliding off its leathery skin. It was dazed, a few noticeable bulges on its bald head made the reasons evident. It stood about seven feet tall, it¡¯s naked body bulging with muscles. It was slashed up though, its dark-purple blood seeping out of wounds. It was the same beast which hurled his men¡¯s corpses around, crushing any creature unfortunate enough to be in its path. He¡¯d thought his men had brought it down, but alas, the creature proved to be much more durable than maces and spears. It limped towards his haggard bunch, slowly picking up speed. The Captain could already smell the fear brewing around him. These men and few women left alive were already broken, and fighting monstrosity such as that would do them no good. The terror on their faces was obvious. He stepped forward, feeling his bones creaking as he did so. That beast was worn down with its injuries, but then again, so was this old beast. The Captain was tired. Same old pattern, same old events. If he did not fight for his warmonger country, then it was for one of the God¡¯s many squabbles This was just another one of them, one of countless many. Thus, the Captain stared into death¡¯s eyes. Dark, ugly slits locked in on him. If he was going down, he might as well take down something with him. Something large and hideous, preferably. ¡°S-sir! I¡¯ll take the right.¡± A frail woman called out to him, from the back. She stepped forward as the Captain glanced back, seeing her slumped stature stare ahead. Having discarded her shield, she held her sword in a two-handed grip in front of her. It shook as the rest of her did. ¡°Ha, cutting one man¡¯s hand was not good enough for you, soldier?¡± The Captain stared at her, seeing her turn even grimmer. She smiled though, locking eyes with the Captain for an instant. ¡°Yes sir, I¡¯ve been dreaming about it, ever since, sir.¡± She swallowed deeply, a desperate chuckle escaping. The Captain nodded slowly. She was far too gone and tense to be of any use in battle. It was a surprise she survived this long. She wouldn¡¯t survive this, though. Yet what this small, incompetent girl had done nudged the Captain to his very cold core. Little things jerked inside him. Valor, duty, camaraderie. Old things. Dead Things. He wasn¡¯t the only foolish one, however. Glancing back, he could see something becoming of the First Company. Hopeless faces turned into doubtful ones. They held their weapons tight, white knuckles showing. Ardor glimmered through beaten eyes. One by one, they were compelled forward. They hobbled with difficulty, being pushed by a force greater than the terror which lodged itself in their hearts. The Captain sighed heavily, his breath turning into fog into the night¡¯s cold. Romanticism never dies, does it? Little feet stepping against rough dirt grew behind him. The Captain closed his eyes, took a deep breath, then bellowed with all the might his body could fathom ¡°Fifth Brigade of the Profectus Empire, Third Regiment, First Company, charge towards that hideous piece of shit!¡± The Captain sprinted ahead, his warcries unending. The First Company, momentary stunned, followed in his wake, their battle cries echoing. 18. How Things Work Around Here Lucious rested his back against the wall, biting into what felt like plywood. After the grinding of teeth, however, Lucious admitted that it was, after all, just another piece of bread. It¡¯s been a few days since the First Phase had begun, and it had only been getting worse outside. With the end of the Ghoul¡¯s onslaught began the human¡¯s own genocides. The political rivals, of whom Lucious knew little of, had taken full advantage of the God¡¯s meddling in human affairs, and had somehow incited a riot. Wisely, Lucious had given that storm wide breath. He had found himself a vacant room in an obscure part of the town and holed himself in it. Unfortunately, his supplies were dwindling by the bite. With annoyance, Lucious studies his Status Screen one last time. Oddly enough, he¡¯d grown fond of the thing. Staying in a small room as chaos ensued outside allowed little else to weigh on Lucious¡¯s mind. Most of it was guesswork, but Lucious had to begin with something, and something this was. The Blue Screens was a communication, of a sort. It was one of the many Gods ways to grant boons, and to communicate these boons, without actually doing so on their own time. There was one central issue regarding this discourse, though; no God was capable of such a feat. Not even the Death Lord or the Earth Mother could establish such a widespread influence directly. They could bring destruction upon this world, yes, but even if every other mischievous God allowed that to happen, it would still not be done directly. Molding the mortal realm took more than that, Lucious had learned. It was evident throughout history, in their symbols, and in their champions. What''s the point of subtlety and deception, if not it¡¯s a necessity? Thus Lucious assumed the worst has occurred, something that occurs every so century; the Gods had actually aligned themselves behind a singular goal. That was freighting. The only thing which stopped the Gods from obliterating life from this planet, was the presence of other Gods, of which they desired to obliterate this planet. You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version. ...Or so history foretold. Regardless of speculation though, one that was clear. A few things actually: Lucious had become stronger, and Lucious could become even stronger. Such thoughts, however, brought great discomfort to Lucious, for becoming stronger was not the same as surviving. And Lucious wanted to survive. There will always be someone stronger than him. His granted powers agreed with him. His Paths, which Lucious assumed originated from his actions, were all sad and lowly. War Child? Omniscient Deserter? Knife And Fork?! They were the Paths of the tortured, of the abused and the meek, and that last one was just plain humiliating. ¡°Fear the mighty fork of doom!¡± the flavor text had said. Whichever God was in charge of creating this System, he had a grim source of humor. Fits me perfectly, Lucious nodded to himself. The question, however, was what to spend his 20 A points, and 39 B points. A stood for achievement, B stood for Battle. Both were self-explanatory, and it seemed that this was the only way in which Lucious could alter his growth. The only Path which held promise, was The Unkillable. In addition to the impressive title, It had an ? next to it, which Lucious presumed it stood for Rare. How he had come to that conclusion, Lucious did not know. He was missing 5 A points, however, and was not sure whether increasing his current chances of survival would be a smarter choice than saving it for the future. But then again, there was no point in saving anything when you''re dead, so at last, he¡¯d inputted 5 A points, and 10 B points into War Child. It was of a common rarity, but it should be a good test.
Perk Gained: Born For War ? Just how cringy will you become? Have the Gods no imagination in shaping you? 10% Increase In Effectiveness and Growth of War Skills.
Not bad, ignoring the flavor text. Though what qualified as War Skills? In a way, Lucious could argue that looking the most handsome person on the field will induce rage in his enemies, and thus cloud their minds with sadistic thoughts towards his irresistibly cute face. Far stretched? Yes, but the point remained. As an opposite entity of a law-bidding fool, Lucious could see many loop-holes and blank spots he could take advantage of, yet strangely, Lucious didn¡¯t seem too eager to try and cheat the Gods. Having gained a perk, Lucious realized the answer to an odd observation he''d had before. The math does not add up. He should have more than 20 A points, at the very least, yet it halted on 20. Gaining a Perk from a Path had somewhat explained that. During the course of that long-winded battles, he¡¯d gained points for nearly every Kill, their amount depending on the opponent and style. The greater the risks, the greater the rewards-- probably. It fit how the Gods operated. As diabolical as they were, there was logic and a hint of fairness in their devastation. It seemed that in some occurrences, instead of points, Lucious received a perk. Or, after he gained points, they were combined at some point to create a Perk, or in the case of The Undying and Knife And Fork, the advancement of it. Lucious had plenty of theories to discuss within the comforts of his narrow mind, but for now, he had closed his Status Screen. Quickly throwing a couple layers upon his body, Lucious exited the room, the coolness of his steel knifes rubbing inside a newly acquired jacket. He was glad to get rid of that embarrassing thing. He hid it in the room, for future transactions. He checked his HP one last time, its bar hovering at 98 out of a 143. What amazing progress. Lucious paused in his tracks. How did he know what his HP was, if he did not even pull out his Status Screen? A shiver went down his spine. Was he becoming less human? Memories of his parents reminded him the consequences of that. Shaking his head, Lucious exited the room. The smell of rot slapped him in the face. Nearly gagging, he stepped over the bodies. The flies already begin to feast on their flesh. Lucious shrugged.That was the price of leaving them there as the warning for the next foolish lad who would attempt to force his way in. 19. The Watch Kora pulled out her blade, its edges sliding out cleanly. She moved about lazily, avoiding pitchforks and clubs aimed carelessly at her lithe figure. A sidestep here, a sidestep there, a small cut to the throat over here, it all too smoothly. Those who survived wept for those who did not, and what better way to grief for the fallen than to join them in their graves? The people took to the streets, picking up whatever pointy tool their dull-witted fingers could reach, and marched towards the Royal Castle. It was illogical, foolish, and rash; It reeked of political motivators. Whoever incited this will be hanged, just as the last nobles, and the ones before them, and the ones before that. Still, it irritated Kora that she had to end a rebellion rather than to join her fellow soldiers at the training camp, probably fending off more Undead creatures. It¡¯s been two days since the First Phase had decimated the Empire, yet their armies still war on against creatures of unknown origins--wave after wave after wave. That, in addition to the Gods ever increasing interference, had thrown the current ruling family, the Alderanions, a real headache this time. Yet no headache has proved durable enough to survive the caress of a very, very sharp blade to the limbs. It did not take long for the rioters at her side to break. They were a force of three hundred, at least, against the meager force of fifty soldiers. They had tried to break into the Second District, and had almost made it too, if it were not for Kora¡¯s platoon reinforcing the Third Gate. Their arrival signaled the beginning of bloodshed truly. Small quarters allowed only for a limited amount of simultaneous quarreling-- greatly impairing the enemy force¡¯s numerical superiority. Once the Third Gate¡¯s siege broke, it was a simple matter of flanking the enemy forces whittling down the other adjacent Gates. There, however, were five Gates in total, and the Empire had only so many soldiers they could spare, especially after the cataclysm had begun. It was evident that whichever political force incited this riot also had both military commanders--concealed, of course-- assisting the rebels, and influence from the Second District. When the First and Fifth Gates garrison were assassinated, Kora¡¯s Third Gate platoon was recalled. They were forced to retreat to Third-Distract-- a much easier task, considering there were only Three Gates in total. Kora was stationed at the First Gate. Whether it was because blind luck or her rank, Kora did not care. She stood overlooking the garrison, the bridge tall behind her miniature towers. What do I even care for, anymore? Power, control, vengeance, an old voice whispered in her head. Other than that, she replied to herself, bemused. The spirit had left her, but not without awakening things better left slumbering. Kora had lost her ambition, her desire, her foolish quest for transcendence. These newfound abilities, however, kept nudging her, giving her false, ill-advised hope. She pulled out her Status Screen, more a reminder to that fickle side rather than for the recollection of the memory.
Status Effects
Well Fed Increase HP, STM, and Overall STM Regeneration by 10% Deep Sleep Bonus increased by 30% Total Growth Increased by 5%
Well Rested Increase HP, STM, and Overall STM Regeneration by 10%This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. Total Growth Increased by 5% 1+ All Attributes
Permanent Crippling Internal Organ Failure Reduce All Physical Performance by 50% Reduce the Effectiveness of All Physical Attributes by 50% Reduce All Physical Regeneration by 50% Reduce Injury Resistance by 50% Reduce Disease Resistance by 50%
There it was, the grim reminder of her impotency. No matter how much she struggles, no matter how much she whines, she would only amount to half of what she is. Whose fault was this, she wondered. Was it her gullibility, or his greed? ¡°Hey Kora, would you like a hot cup of tea?¡± Kora tilted her head slightly, seeing Amila, one of her fellow garrisoned soldiers, striding towards her. She held two cups in her hands, their steam clashing against the bitter air. ¡°...I could hardly say no to that, considering you have already prepared one,¡± Kora replied, not bothering to hide the irritation in her voice. Amila smiled proudly, not bothering to hide the joy in her face. ¡°How goes the night?¡± Amila asked her, nudging closer to Kora. Kora resigned herself inwardly. This would take some time. She waved away the Status Screen, returning her gaze back to the far rooftops. Any structures built were far enough to prevent any arrows from bombarding the Gates. In there, a mix of rebels and hired men occupied the buildings, licking their wounds after their previous failure. Soon, the Empire will begin to strike back. It was only matter of time before the command structure gets restored fully. ¡°No signs of hostile activities. The rebels remain to fruitfully attempt to stare these stone walls into oblivion.¡± Amila paused, cup half-way up, before giggling quietly. ¡°I meant how you were looking up, silly¡± She nudged the side of her head against Kora¡¯s cheeks, tickling her sides with blank strands of hair. Kora¡¯s eye-brows straightened, compacting her shoulders. Weird girl. ¡°Fine.¡± ¡°Careful, it¡¯s hot¡± ¡°I can see that,¡± Kora said as she promptly proceeded to burn her tongue on it. A wince escaped her face, making Amila laugh even more. ¡°I tol-¡± ¡°Shut up!¡± A tiny blush snuck its way onto Kora¡¯s face. Soon, Amila¡¯s boisterous laughter attracted another soldier patrolling the gates. He slid beside Amila, eying them as they sipped on their tea. ¡°Enjoying guard duty, ladies?¡± he smiled. ¡°Very much so,¡± Amila replied in a measured manner, then leaned in closer to him and whispered, ¡°We¡¯re only missing a couple of cozy blankets and a bard to sing us tales of faraway lands.¡± The soldier was fazed for a couple, caught off guard. After a slight pause he burst into full laughter, the spear against his shoulder shaking as he bent forward. ¡°I should have expected as much, women who voluntarily choose to engage in putting holes in people are never normal. I¡¯m Lyke.¡± She smiled back at him, ¡° I''m Amila, this here is Kora. She¡¯s a wonderful person, don¡¯t mind the disgust showing on her face, she does that with everyone.¡± Lyke nodded slowly. His gaze returned the Amila. ¡°You two have known each other before being stationed here?¡± ¡°Nope,¡± Amila replied. Luke¡¯s face perplexed slightly, then smirked, ¡°Oh, then how do you know?¡± ¡°Oh, that¡¯s easy. You see, I saw her fighting. She was very merciful with the rebels.¡± Amila said, pointing her fingers up with a triumphant look. ¡°She let them...go?¡± ¡°Of course not sweetie! Anyone she crossed blades with¡­¡± Amila motioned a line through her throat ¡°...Died instantly! Without any pain!¡± Amila smiled at Lyke. A homely smile. A heart-warming smile. Lyke stepped back, swallowing deeply. ¡°You should have seen the way she moved,¡± Amila leaned in closer to Lyke, her eyes widening in wonder ¡°No wasted movement. Pure, poised, clever, light. Her blade only touched soft flesh.¡± Kora shook her head, slightly. With this body, It is not as if like I had a choice in the matter. ¡°Oh, I see¡­¡± Slowly, Lyke backed off, promptly excusing himself to perform his duties. A quiet moment passed his departure. ¡°He¡¯s cute.¡± ¡°He¡¯s an idiot.¡± ¡°He¡¯s a good person!¡± ¡°He¡¯s just oblivious.¡± Another moment passed. Amila pouted. ¡°You scared him!¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t say anything!¡± ¡°Exactly! You should have...smiled at him!¡± Kora faced her, baring her teeth. Amila held it in, for a few seconds, before the laughter shook her body. ¡°Sorry, sorry, please, that might work on hounds but not on boys.¡± Kora rolled her eyes, her lips sipping the cooling tea. She returned her gaze towards the skies. This region lacked the stars her home did, but the moon was bright, no matter where you studied it from. She glanced at Amila. Well, she''s not that bad. A full, merry face always answered her. ...But that smile still scares me. 20. A Taste Of Tea The fire cackled softly, its soft glow illuminating the old thing seated to Argento¡¯s front. Its skin lay haggard, folding upon itself excessively. Argento could only see one light-blue eye peeking at him, the other too thin and obstructed by the hunch of its eyebrows. ¡°Drink, Argento, drink! It shall soothe your soul, this Tieguanyin tea would. Harvested from the loftiest mountains of the Nrial Kingdoms. Worth its price in gold, or would you prefer silver, Argento?¡± The lady laughed, her rusty throat sounding much like the crackling fire. Argento did not like what he saw. There were barely any teeth left, and the only one he could see was missing its other half. Argento¡¯s hand fidgeted as he lifted the tea to his lips. His was a cold no fire could soothe. Still, if anything would calm his nerves down, it would be this. The aroma tickled Argento¡¯s nose. From a cup that was also worth it¡¯s worth in gold, he sipped the light green tea. Unsurprisingly, It flowed richly down his throat. He felt its relaxing potency glide upon his wretched nerves, his tense muscles finally succumbing to a moment of repose. He sighed deeply, sinking into the softness of his chair. ¡°It is true, I feel my soul mellowing in its warmth.¡± Argento laid his eyes closed, immersing himself in its sensation. ¡°It¡¯s the least I could to reply you, my boy. You did, against all peril and hazardous streets, did you carry this old lady to safety,¡± Ovalia said. That was not how he remembered it. Argento opened his eyes to her sly figure, the sturdy cane lying beside her chair handle. He felt his bruises itch. Ovalia had used it sparingly against him, when he was in a daze, and had commanded him to carry her to her estate-- in the Third District. Argento was, in a way, quite fortunate to meet such a powerful person, yet her obvious bitterness with how her life has been proceeding lessened the prospects of their meeting. For a second, Argento had pitied the Ghouls that had been battered into mush by her. ¡°Not at all, my lady, it was the ordinary thing to do.¡± ¡°Saving this ancient, dying hag? I think not, young man.¡± ¡°Any passersby would have done the same, lady.¡± ¡°Such modesty, young man, such modesty! There were many passersby, yet none moved an inch to our needy assistance¡± Please don¡¯t count the dead. ¡°They were indisposed, lady, I could hardly blame them at all.¡± She clicked her tongue, which Argento found odd, considering she had no teeth. Can you click your tongue without any teeth? ¡°Too indisposed to help a lady with a sprained ankle? Such kindness, young man!¡± She said, lowering her voice, ¡°..ill-considered, even. Do not excuse the fool for his foolishness! ¡± They were dead! ¡°I owe you a great favor for saving this old lady, that I do. Such bravery should be rewarded!¡± ¡°You flatter me, ma''am. I feel honored by your gratitude.¡± ¡°Mention it not, young sir, for this humble abode shall serve as your home.¡± Suddenly, the leather seats Argento was seated upon were no longer as comfortable as they had been. He felt the sweat accumulate upon his brows.If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. ¡°T-thank you for hospitality, ma¡¯am, but I am afraid I will have to return to my household, as I am certain my kin are in dire need of me.¡± Until this moment, Argento realized, Ovalia had been smiling. Only now did her flatter to a hold a grief-stricken face. ¡°Oh Argento, you poor thing. Have you not heard already? Your family...were not as fortunate. I am afraid that...they have passed, my dear boy.¡± A small lump grew within Argento¡¯s throat. For the first few moments, Argento stared dumbly at the lady, unable to comprehend the significance of her words. Gradually, then, as his nerves were tightening, the world around him gradually succumbed to chaos. Dizziness overwhelmed him. He drank down the last drops of the tea, setting his cup on the table to his front. He opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again ¡°A-re you certain, ma¡¯am? The Danario family is quite a clev-¡± ¡°Their bodies were found, dear boy. All of them. You have my condolences, Argento.¡± Argento sunk his head into the seat. His face had turned a bright pink, his eyes had closed to prevent any tears from seeping out. A heavy moment passed, his head swirling in volatile emotion. ¡°Tea, sir?¡± Just as the downpour of tears threatened to break through, Argento opened his eyes to the handsome face of the maid bending towards him, teapot in hand. The concern on her soft face was comforting. He nodded at her, extending his teacup towards her. For the next few minutes, Argento drank in silence. ¡°This...tea is quite good.¡± ¡°That it is, Argento.¡± Argento nodded, standing up. He bowed towards the lady. ¡°Thank you for your hospitality, lady. If I may turn in for tonight?¡± The lady nodded, extending her hand towards the maid. ¡°This young lady will guide you to your chambers. Sleep well, young man.¡± Argento took a couple steps towards the door, his unsteadiness beckoning the maid to lead him with his elbows. He stopped abruptly, nodding at the lady one last time, before exiting through the doors. Two violet eyes peeked out of the darkness ¡°Ghouls?...Do you never grow old of manipulating young, lusty, naive men, Ovalia?¡± ¡°And what about you, Naxia? Will you never grow out of those magic tricks?¡± Naxia clicked her tongue, fully emerging from the darkness. It slipped off her limbs with obvious relent, releasing an alluring woman in her twenties. She wore a complete black attire, the leathers sticking tightly to her skin. Her face was a pale white, as was her hair. She threw herself upon the seat, her boots slipping off cleanly. ¡°And just who benefits the most, out of these childish tricks, Ovalia?¡± ¡°The one who is a century age old with breasts that is yet to caress the ground she walks upon, that is who Naxia, that is who.¡± A shiver sled down Naxia¡¯s spine. ¡°Agh! Why do you have to be like that!¡± Naxia cried, disgust clear on her face. She held her shoulders together, banishing the unpleasant thoughts. ¡°Why are you messing with the boy, anyway? He doesn¡¯t seem like he¡¯ll amount to much.¡± ¡°Maybe, maybe not.¡± Ovalia shrugged, sipping her tea. Naxia¡¯s eyes narrowed ¡°Come on, out with!¡± ¡°You would not like it, Ovalia, the possibility is better off unheard.¡± ¡°Try me.¡± Ovalia sighed, setting the cup down. She straightened out her hunched back, laying her head on the chair. She rested her eyes as she did so. ¡°The Gods have begun another one of their power games.¡± Naxila nodded ¡°I¡¯ve felt the powers move, with great effort, but what does that have to do with this little guy? He has no attribute which the Gods might seek in deriving their forces through¡± Ovalia went silent. Naxia¡¯s perplexed face turned into irritation upon she hearing her snoring. ¡°Ovalia! Wake up you old hound!¡± Ovalia stopped her snoring abruptly, lifting one eye-lit open, ¡°Oh, I¡¯m sorry dear, I thought you were going to answer the question you asked me to answer. ¡± Ovalia closed her eyes once again, her snoring beginning anew. Naxia lifted her hands in resignation ¡°Fine, fine you disgruntled fussy ball! Please do go on!¡± Ovalia cleared her throat ¡°...As I was previously saying. Another power game begins, though that is by itself does not warrant any more attention than it already receives.¡± Leaning forward, she lifted one finger up ¡°...the issue begins with how they are playing their games now. Nearly the entire populace has gained a Gift. A cumulative Gift, but the mos-¡± ¡°I haven¡¯t gained any-¡± Naxia said, stopping her tongue halfway through. She coughed and turned her sight away. ¡°Yes, not everyone gained the Gift. It was mostly the younglings, probably the Seeds Of Influence, combined with a population which was just seeped off the leakage of power. Sata Nocte has already claimed us, so we¡¯re largely immune to it, but as I was saying, the issue does not lay in the Gift itself,¡± Ovalia coughed lightly. She poured herself another cup leaned back in her chair, slowly sipping on it. Naxia fidgeted in her seat. That old hound was doing this on purpose, and pushing her would only worsen the situation--thus Naxia bid her time, her muscles quivering in anticipation. Surprise grew on Ovalia¡¯s face. Had she, after a few hundred years, finally learned the value of patience? Satisfied, Ovalia set the now-empty cup down, continuing. ¡°Nearly every power game for the past few centuries has been the Gods bidding their Influence of the world against each other, yes?¡± Naxia nodded, and, while her face stayed blank, her ankle twitched every so lightly in response to her mistake. Hehe, Naxia, you idiot, you¡¯re not supposed to be more than a hundred years old, remember dear? Ovalia went on, not reacting towards Naxia¡¯s slip up, ¡°When was the last time that the Gods did not bid their influence directly on each other?¡± Naxia thought for a moment, then replied in a slightly lower voice than her typical one ¡°From what I remember from the history bo-¡± That, was actually quite humorous ¡°-oks, is that it would go about three centuries ago¡­Oh Dylon¡¯s tities this is going to be a fucking headache.¡± Ovalia agreed wholly, ¡°Yes, the less they bicker among each other, the more change that will come to our world. The Gifts that were granted in the process during that time¡­¡± among them, I believe, you, dear Naxia, ¡°...hailed a couple centuries of fraught with them.¡± Naxia groaned ¡°I¡¯m so tired of this! I just narrowly avoided Telum Dominus¡¯s stupid plot to steal Notcis away from me! If it wasn¡¯t for Sata Nocte stepping in¡­¡± another disgusting shiver slithered through ¡°...and that was just a few years ago!¡± ¡°Oh, there is more.¡± Naxia held her face in her hands ¡°What could possibly be worse than this?¡± Naxia said, flinching. ¡°I shouldn¡¯t have said that, should I? That¡¯s the part where it gets worse¡­¡± Ovalia shook her head ¡°Of course it could get worse!¡± Pausing, Ovalia fully opened both of eyes ¡°...A Siren...might have been born...¡± Naxia leaped up, becoming still as a stick and gasped¡°W-w-wha--yeah sorry I have nooo idea what you¡¯re talking about.¡± She then fell to seat, boredom seeping back into her. Idiots, idiots everywhere I go, Ovalia thought, resigning herself to the comfort of her chair. She surrendered to sleep''s embrace moments after. 21. Rotten Luck ¡°You blasphemous traitors! Release us this instance!¡± an old black man hollowed, rattling the jail bars. Men around him groaned in pain. They were a badly beaten group, all squished against the cold stone. Only a day had passed since their capture and the rot has already made its home in this dungeon. The lucky ones seated themselves in the far left corner of the jail, away from the unlucky ones, who now lay stacked and unmoving in the bottom corner of the jail. ¡°Just shut up already, it¡¯s been ten fucking hours!¡± another old man called out from the crowd. ¡°Traitor this traitor that, the Justicia will execute you and Justucai will damn you. It¡¯s us that are in locked here, not them, you senile fool!¡± The old man whipped his face around, revealing a set of two mismatched eyes, one dead white and the other brown. Each eye looked in different directions, but neither looked in the direction of the man it was addressing ¡°You weak spined, eel feces fucker! Have you no honor? No faith? No conviction? They have brought upon us the wrath of a hundred Pn¨¦vmas! Bringing retribution upon their sinful souls will deliver us from The Great One¡¯s retribution!¡± ¡°And what¡¯s thrusting your shriveled cat penis against iron bars going to do? Ha?¡± An old soul called out from within the throng of bodies. ¡°More than sitting flat on your own shit going to do, you bald dicked, white shrimp!¡± ¡°T-that wasn¡¯t me! I wa-¡± ¡°Fuck off, they could smell your fouled pants from the next cell¡± ¡°No they ca-¡± ¡°Quiet down there!¡± A guard yelled, a distance away, ¡°One more disturbance and you crippled fools will be skipping lunch!¡± The Old Man snapped his shriveled body around, opening his mouth with hostile venom. Before the first word was uttered, however, men all around threw their limbs at him, bringing him down and covering his vile mouth. Only a few muffled curses escaped his lips. After a rustle, the prisoners heard the far gates closing, sounding the guard''s exist. The Old Man escaped the mass angry fingers that held him, indulging everyone around him about the wretched corruptness and vile nature of human beings, and how they had brought this upon themselves. He was also kind enough to remind them of their impending doom and endless horrors of the afterlife, which they had been sentenced too upon surrendering their souls to the wicked ones. An hour later, the rebels were spared the rest of the lecture by the gate''s screeching against the stone ground. A horde of iron boots echoed in the long halls of the dingy dungeon, their stormy entrance and hard spears awakening any slumbering prisoner. Lucious peeked out from the cluster of bodies, catching sight of The High Guard. Giant soldiers with even more enormous halberds. The shortest of them towered at six foot five. Each wore a full set of heavy steel armor, colored blue and white, with the exception of the Captain, whose fancy white was a torch by itself. Someone had a fetish. For the twenty hundredth time, Lucious cursed his wicked luck. How he got round up in the capture of the rebellion forces, he had no idea. One moment he was forging for food, the next he was caught him in a chaotic mess of metal and limb. Lucious began wondering if someone had it in for him, someone that possibly deserved a dagger in the arse. He promptly dismissed that idea as too foolish--it reeked too much of narcissism. He was too insignficant to be of any matter. ¡°Listen up you scum! The Profectus Empire has decided to grant mercy upon your sad souls! Instead of executing you useless lot for your crimes against the Empire, you will instead serve in its battle against the dark forces!¡± Faces lit up all around, dead men flinching in each corner of the block prison. The smartest of them had already submitted to the grim reality of their nearing judgment, yet the life in their bodies returned. One of the men in the stack of corpses even woke up. "Of course, we will not force this upon you. I will personally escort any man wishing to forsake this divine opportunity," The Captain of the High Gaurd said, snapping the butt of his spear against the ground. The ground cracked. The meaning of it was not lost upon the prisoners. Not even the babbling old rat opened his mouth. Only a special few had the humor left to nudge him. It did not take long the Guards to round up everyone in long chains. No one was foolish, or brave enough, to wish leave from this mission. Half a thousand entered the gutters, and only half of those left. The tough few were the ones the army wanted, nevertheless. No case in feeding and supplying mouths that were gonna drop dead regardless. They marched straight out of the prison block, and towards the North exit. Blood and the smell of burning flesh was everywhere. The prisoners and the High Gaurd encountered many mounds of corpses. It was where the dead were gathered to be burned--a wise precaution by the Empress against the raising undead. The bodies were then set a flame, sometimes through magical concoctions, and others through more rudimentary tools, such as oil and a spark. The greatest pyre were those in the Third District, where the human population was the densest. The mound became a hill, and the whipping flames threatened to catch onto houses. The screams of the living accompanied the corpses. Not out of remorse, for that had perished days ago, but of the men and women who had the poor luck of being accused of corruption for one senseless reason or the other. They too were tossed in the pyre. Lucious watched the sinful smoke creep skyward and feed the dark heavens. It was an ugly gray, full of dark clouds and nauseous wails. Wicked things flew above the clouds. A glimpse sent horror into each man''s soul.The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation. It was the beginning of a Dark Age. Lucious did not mind this one bit. Let the entire world be swallowed by black flames, for all he cared. Let them be slaughtered like cattle, let them be skinned like sheep. Let them be devoured like pigs and enslaved like dogs. Gods know they deserve each moment of it. Let this be the end of civilization, the extinction of man. The Final Solution. Again and again, again and again, each pyre will draw the painting of humanity''s countless crimes. Lucious will take joy in it. It will not be his revenge, for he has not partaken in the honor, but he will savior it like sweet honey. Haggard prisoners joined arms with other haggard prisoners from other parts of the city. There was Thirty High Guards to each couple hundred, yet all knew that no amount of number could overwhelm The High Guard. How foolish and tinny they all seem in comparison to the Empire''s deadliest machines. Accompanying the rear of a three thousand tall army, the rebel force numbered a thousand. A week had passed since the dead had risen in The Profectus Empire, where horrors became deadlier horrors, yet even in that span of time the Empire had cleansed its cities of the undead, had brought down a coup, brokered peace on its eastern front, and had recalled the majority of its forces back into the capital''s surrounding lands. The spear to the empire, however, as the rumors went, was the loss of Dijhat. The city had connected the empires supply routes as well as it¡¯s trade routes, in addition to the manufacturing of Ethium crystals, and now that it was lost, the Profectus Empire would lose a vital tactical advantage. No more explosive crystals to decimate a courted army, no more mines to assist in bloodthirsty ambushes. Unless, of course, the Council of Seven and the King decided to launch a suicidal attack on its impenetrable walls, use half the Empire¡¯s remaining storage of crystal explosives, munitions, and sacrifice a goat and a half for a tint of success. The fastest of its sieges lasted in years, others faster in case of political exploits and inside fighting--something wise men would doubt would occur. How do you debate the undead? In each case, the defenders died of starvation and disease, and catapulting sick cows and corpses was much more efficient than rocks and arrows. How would that even work for the undead? Throwing corpses and sick cows against the undead? That would be a funny sight, but a sight said wise men would not want to be present for. Lucious wanted to be part of said men. The Second Regiment marched for days in the cold. It wasn¡¯t much of an issue for Lucious, with his highly specialized skills in Endurance, but it was much more so for the rest of the scrabble following the heel of the Regiment. Low temperatures, harsh winds, and a lack of equipment wared down the group. The Regiment, who were mostly trained for this, marched on for days, with little to no sleep and minimum food. Luscious listened in here and there, attempting to get an understanding of the world, yet it all amounted to a worthless jumble of contradicting nonsense. By the fourth day, their commanding officer gathered them in one of their scarce rest periods. ¡°We are now a couple days march from the Third Regiment¡¯s encampment. As many of you already know, the infestation by the undead had spread far and wide, gyrating our peaceful Empire into a gruesome mess of conflict and war,¡± their officer announced, his face turning into a scorn ¡°one of these conflicts being a petty rebel raising.¡± Lucious shifted, his left knee throbbing. The damp dirt sunk below his weight. If that was peace to them, then what was war? ¡°It is time, however, for you to repent for your crimes against the state. You are to hereby march to the front of the Regiment. You will participate in many battles in order to unite the Third Regiment, who now stands pressed under the hordes of undead. The Regiment had survived a week under the onslaught of the hordes. I¡¯m sure those of you who possess an inkling of intelligence have realized by now, that whatever the Third Regiment can last a week in direct conflict with is not a force which can handle the might of the Second Regiment, much less both at the same time. Some of you will perish, but most of you will survive. Those who survive the worse of the fighting not only will they be cleansed for their crimes, but also rewarded with 10 Rubies each, and offered a position in the army.¡± The men''s eyes returned to life. They thought they were marching to Dijhat, The Impenetrable City of The Century, but it turns out that they would only have to fight in skirmishes against the undead in the fields and the forests. One of the men next to Lucious, a bald, heavily built middle-aged man with a hunch to his back, chuckled under his breath ¡°What a hefty reward. It doesn¡¯t sound like they expect much of us to get out." "They''ll probably use us as an experimental force?" "Send us on a suicide mission? Use us to stiffen a charge?" "Oh, the possibilities make me jiggle!" For the exception of the last guy, Lucious found himself in agreeance with the group. They seemed like a decent bunch to stick with. He¡¯d been fooled just as good as the idiot in the next gutter. He had expected certain death against Dihjat¡¯s walls. His standards, to say the least, were of the lowest. In contrast, flanking the enemy undead to liberate an entire Regiment seemed much more pleasant of an ordeal. Now, however meager, hope budded. Praise the Empire, Lucious giggled. They were a mean bunch, but he had to give it to them: they sure knew how to manipulate everyone and everything. How different were they from the Gods which they cursed, Lucious did not know. For all he knew, the Third Regiment might already be done with, and this announcement was only made in order to decrease deserters. Or, even worse, it could just be a trap.
NewCharacter Trait Gained.
Cynicism The good news is that you will not be fooled. The bad news? The good news might not even be true! What is true? Just fuck it. Nothing even matters anyway.
A tired sigh escaped Lucious lips. This too, was something he had to come to terms with. This was just a joke to them. Entertainment. A little bit of color in their monotone immortalities. In dealing with men, a dagger always sufficed. But for Gods? How would you defy those? What''s a stick against the power of creation? It was a hopeless ordeal. Everyone and everything was simply an oversized bug in comparison. Tragedy at it''s best, oh the joys of it. Lucious saw no way in it, but at the very least, he promised himself he would be as insufferable as he possibly could be. That way, he could share his bitterness with the rest of the miserable world in his final moments. But that too would be but a drop in a filthy ocean, Lucious thought to himself. He dropped his shoulders down in defeat, and prepared himself for battle. Not like it matters anyway.
+1 Wisdom
Haha. Update Ok, this is the second time I''m writing this. I really hope Royal Road doesn''t crash on me again. For those of you that remember how one of the chapters I was writing got deleted because the website crashed on me, well, I haven''t learned my lesson. Take TWO: So I thought about writing both of my fictions at the same time, or maybe post a chapter here every once in a while, but then I started using my brain and decided not to. How The Weak Live is not a story I can write carelessly. Sure, the writing is difficult in its own rights, especially when I have to change the tone and style for each of the four different characters, but that''s not the main issue. The biggest factors that make How The Weak Live is the combination of world-building, story complexity, storytelling, character progression, politics and other empires, dystopian elements, and the RPG world, and the system of Gods, as well as their lore. As you can see, there is just so fucking much I need to tell you that I really don''t know where to begin; hence the irony of having so much to say that I could not say any of it. Sure, I can just keep writing and hope for the best, but that''s something you only do when you don''t care as much for something.If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. And I do care for this fiction. So, long story short, I won''t be doing a half-assed job releasing mediocre chapters, and instead, I''ll finish my other fiction, L, and then get back to this one in my fullest. Though I''m behind the attempting to attain perfection stage, I''ll still be a quality of quantity type of author. At the rate I''m going, at a rate of 1k words per day, I''ll probably be done in two months or so. For those of you that are curious, L is basically a combination of dark humor, penis jokes, depression, and a slightly deranged MC. Just read the first chapter, I really can''t give a summary without spoiling the fun of exploring the mystery of the world. Much like this one, the action is so low I hesitated to even add the "action tag." Fights don''t happen for no reason, and there is no mindless grinding that though is sometimes fun to read, is not my style of writing. The joy is in the dialogue, in the characters, in the politics, and in the way skills are utilized. Give the first chapter a read, but beware that it is a story that happened to be LITRPG, rather than a LITRPG that happened to be a story. So yeah, much like how I was writing this one. Anyway, it''s just a fun write, and a probably a decent read. I''ll be back here in a few months, so see you back here then. P.S. Elins, if you''re reading this, I''m sorry I really didn''t deserve you, but I promise I''ll craft at least a Rare scroll out of this one. Update I''m finally done. It took a lot of time and close reading, and I changed quite a bit of stuff, but I finished L. It''s now called Tales And Schemes: L because having just the letter L would have made the story very, very difficult to find. It''s now live on kindle. 110k words in 5 months and half. If all goes well, then I''m going to have the same update rate for tis. By the second half I was writing 1.5k a day, and though that might be difficult for a story as complex as this while going to school, I will try my best to stick with it. If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. I''m going to get started on the re-write for this. Evershadow made some really good points. If you have any suggestions, now would be a GREAT time. It''s going to take me a week or two before I actually post the chapters, though if anyone wants to be beta readers and give me critqeu and feedback before the chapters are posted, then do hit me up. It''s make and break. Oh, and if you own kindle, please do be a dear and drop a nice review on there. The more people review the other book the more it will help encourage other people read it. Now, I get paid for each page someone flips for kindle unlimited. About $4.78 per 1,000 pages. https://www.royalroad.com/amazon/B07H1LZH22 Final update I want to thank everyone for giving me feedback up to this point. I went back and re-read it, and kept it in mind as I wrote and made the plans. I hope I used it well. The re-done version of How The Weak Live is going to be released over the next few days. I''ve re-done all the chapters, so after I throw those up, the rate will be 7K a week. I did some major changes for the plot, though the characters are largely the same. The first book is called How The Weak Live, but I think the series name will These Games Of Ours. I like the name of it, sounds much like We Happy Few. I tried to keep to core of why people liked this novel. I''ll be a little more responsible in writing this than I did with L, in which I honestly did whatever my mood requested of me. The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation. I got everything, yeah? Oh right, the link. https://www.royalroad.com/fiction/20642/these-games-of-ours. Let me know how you like the changes once all the chapters are up. It would be really ironic if I made it worse heh.